The fibrous roots of fritos and frijoles

Whether it be Cambodia, Pakistan, the French Riviera, or the hills of rural Mexico, it seems that everywhere one travels, you can find distinctive and often colorful cuisine. The question is….when you sit down to bowl of sweet potato soup prepared with coconut milk and tapioca in the Himalayas or you sort through the intense blend of spices, vegetables, and dried fruit and nuts in India’s Navratan Kurma…where did all these ideas come from?

Well recently, I had the privilege of travelling to the ruralest of rural villages in Oaxaca, Mexico. In these towns where doctors are a luxury and food is cultivated often on the side of cliffs, one can learn a bit about the origins of cuisine. Here time is scaled back a few decades and truckloads of wonder bread or exotic fruits are not options. However, in spite of their isolation, these people can somehow enjoy exquisite, flavorful food using only the resources around them.

As breakfast is cooked in an outdoor smoky stove, our local “chefs” whisked together some eggs from village chickens and cooked them gently in the giant leaves shown below, known as “hojas sanas.” These leaves are collected from trees in the forest just outside our bunkhouse and are actually quite delicious. The dish is topped off with traditional rice and beans to make a simple, yet flavorful Mexican breakfast.














And finally….at this tumbling waterfall, local residents tracked down and collected this green herb, known as “wild cilantro,” which actually does have a taste pretty similar to its namesake. Turned out it was the perfect complement to some early morning eggs, rice, and beans. And, just to throw in a little Vitamin C, we were sure to eat a few Mamey fruit…again collected from the trees outside.
















Even though time has progressed and world trade is booming (and certainly none of us would prefer to live in such harsh, isolating conditions), almost all cultures can trace back their history to a time similar to this….Times when ingredients you ate were the ingredients you grew (or sometimes what was brought in by the last ship) and drive-thru cuisine was not an option. The story almost anywhere you travel is similar….centuries upon centuries of local people starting with few resources and getting creative over time. Prodding the forest for a wild array of flavors and spices (as they surely did in India), then cultivating the foods that were most well suited to the area, then throwing a little creativity into the mix. Thousands of years of creativity. Slowly….after trial and error and tradition and plenty of slow-cooking grandmas, it seems that cuisines emerged of a very local sort. The options created by world trade, then, could only make these cuisines better because of their foundation. Of course, it would be wrong to romanticize remote places who still have few resources and few crops....but it is amazing that even these places can usually enjoy a meal that is better than what you would find at Burger King.














So what about the roots of our Fritos? America may stand alone as the only country who has not had its thousands of years to develop its own unique fare. Partly due to our youth, but also likely due to our quest for convenience since colonization. Without being limited to the land, long standing native-American fare was ignored as we started our “cuisine” on a base of giant processing plants and mass production of under-par produce.












Of course, let's not forgot that we have rights to the all-famous apple pie, so that should redeem us a bit for sure. And luckily, we currently have the advantage of being the world “melting pot” so that an intricate array of foreign flavors can be found in most metropolitan areas (if they are not changed to suit American tastes). Can we still appreciate them given our long-time hum-drum diet of corn syrup, beef patties, and caffeine? Let’s hope so….or we citizens are certainly missing out :)

The Grandeur of God

So I have this picture:

This was taken in the rugged terrain of northern Arizona, just south of the Grand Canyon. After spending hours taking in views like the ones at the very bottom of this entry, my dad and brother and I were inundated by this riot in the sky. From time to time as we watched, all these sweeping colors were cut by hot lightening bolts (wish it was easier to catch lighting on film), and as the colors dampened from the darkness and the dry thunderclouds, the full moon somehow pealed through and crowded into the scene.

It was as if our feet were glued to the desert ground. It’s amazing how a scene like this in the open wilderness could not only speak volumes about the wonder of the God who painted it, but also could make me completely aware of who I was not.

Just when you think you’re something…A God who balances the planet (and plenty of other planets) in its orbit; who scattered the stars into empty space; who hovers over deep oceans and shifts the rumbling thunderclouds…can easily remind you in one instant of the scope of His bigness and power.

As I’ve continued in my treks to little known natural places, I never stop discovering that there is nowhere where He is not present...........And sharply present.

In an abandoned out-of-the-way corner, you may find the soil stuffed with all kinds of greenery…each individual plant with cells perfectly arranged and with its own intricate seeds and flowers. Closer to the ground you may find an insect with elaborate color patterns too minute to see with the naked eye. Hawks may fly overhead with wings and feathers perfectly designed to hover in the wind. No matter how far you may roam, the story is the same…Our God is everywhere…No place too big and no place too small. The earth happens to be saturated with the presence and glory of God.

After taking all this in, the wonder is that the same hands that threw the stars into the black sky are the hands that worked at a carpenter’s bench…and eventually the hands that knew nails.

It appears that yes…there really is nowhere that He will not go. The God that shaped the planets, tosses comets around, and stirs up the waves….Lives in me?? Hold up.

While the truth that He lives in me is a stretch, the reality that He actually gave up everything to live and die for you and me is even harder to grapple with. Hopefully someday I will understand the humility that caused the Most Powerful of All to willingly assume the most powerless position on earth. Until then? Hmmm….