On the Shepard of New Beginnings
with my chocolate olive oil cake (seriously, be the dessert queen of your dreams)
WITH SOUL
Thanksgiving is this week, and households across America are preparing to cook a turkey, host their family, and kick off the holiday season. It’s cliché that this week is about gratitude, I know- but it’s the only thing my fingers could type.
I can't tell you the last time I heard the origin story of Thanksgiving. Somewhere along the way, maybe in sixth grade or so, the story of how the Pilgrims came here stopped being told. We stopped making Turkey's shaped from our hands, we stopped re-telling the tale of Plymouth Rock and the Autumn Harvest, and Thanksgiving just became the "kick-off" to the Holiday Season. We'd bow our heads at the table and argue about who would start the "giving thanks" portion first- I was always nervous I would say something embarrassing so I would listen to what others said and mimic their gratitude, not truly understanding the weight of that word.
That is until I was sixteen and began volunteering at a local shelter, the I.N.N. Our theology teacher had created an opportunity for us to volunteer at a local shelter for community service and I signed up pretty quickly and without thought.
On my first trip there, I helped a Spanish-speaking gentleman find shoes that would fit. He had a hole in the sole of his left foot, and couldn't find a size ten boot anywhere. Through broken language, patience and kindness, we were able to find him a pair of boots for the winter. It was an icebreaker into volunteering and a moment I will never forget. His strong but thin stature, his patience, his humility, and his grace broke any stereotype 16-year-old Leanne had about homelessness and the shelter. Somewhere inside, something clicked and I became feverish in my pursuit to make this the best experience. Throughout the rest of that day, I helped a woman find an outfit for an interview, dug through children's winter coats to find the perfect "he can grow into" coat for a family, and when I left, I cried in my room for hours not understanding why anyone would have to be put through those struggles.
I went back to the I.N.N. almost monthly. Most days at the I.N.N. were filled with older women volunteering while the nuns guided us, and donations being dropped off in the back. I spent my time mostly sorting clothes and cleaning up the "store". I loved organizing the racks, making sure they were neat and in size order, all as a way to try and uphold the idea that this was just a pit stop in someone's day- a shopping experience rather than a handout.
If most days were quiet, Thanksgiving was the Super bowl. Volunteers from all over Long Island came in to help cook, distribute meals, and organize bagged meals for families to cook at home. In my first year, the nuns decided to put me on the line to hand out dinners. But, there was one twist: guests didn't come up to receive their meal, we went to their table and served them. The goal was to make the day special and make it feel like you were out of a restaurant, not in a shelter. The guests that day were so gracious: thanking us in their language, some even giving us hugs and handshakes. I remember standing in line waiting for a few trays and looking out at the crowded dining room; guests who had the hard lines of stress etched into their faces were smiling, and children were praying and giving thanks, a room full of gratitude. I watched as a couple in their 70s gave each other a clink of their plastic cups filled with apple juice, while an animated three-year-old showed his Mom the "new" toy he got from the shop. I saw heads bow and give grace over their meals, and couples give each reassuring rubs on their backs. Leaning on each other as they wade through the world.
Unlike my first visit, I didn't leave crying at the injustice of the world- I left with a better understanding of gratitude. Thanksgiving was no longer an obligatory dinner with my Aunt and her sons: it took on a new meaning. Thanksgiving was about being present and giving thanks for the blessings you do have, instead of all the things you don't. It was about the people around you who helped you, instead of focusing on all those who didn't. From the people who created the meal to the people who enjoyed the meal, there was a sense of community and humility in the building that day.
Gratitude at the I.N.N. wasn't surface level- and, I knew I didn't want to be either. That year, at Thanksgiving, I wasn't embarrassed to be grateful for the warm room, for the coat I wore, and for my parents who made sure my brother and I had an education and the best of everything. At 16, I slowly began to expand my view and understand that while my young teenage brain thinks everything is about them, the world was much bigger and more complicated. I am still so grateful for that experience and how it shifted my mindset. I volunteered at the I.N.N. every year until I was 25- even driving down from Connecticut during the years I lived there. Selfishly, volunteering at Thanksgiving allowed me to learn about grace and kept me grounded. In many ways, it's wonderful that volunteering at the I.N.N. on Thanksgiving became a lottery- the influx of volunteers is a sign that so many of us want to do good, and not in a performative way.
It's difficult to write about Thanksgiving today. Our society has such an emphasis on all that we did wrong in our past, and I am not ignorant of the facts there, that it's hard to write about a day that has taken a new meaning in all of our lives. Perhaps it's privileged thoughts that have separated the genesis of Thanksgiving and the meaning of giving thanks; or, perhaps volunteering at the I.N.N. allowed me to separate the two. Either way, I'm not sure, but the one thing I am sure of is that to give thanks is to be a Shepard of new beginnings.
We have each created new traditions around Thanksgiving. From playing games with families to the branched-off holiday, "Friendsgiving", it's as if all of us use this starting point of the holiday season to celebrate the love we have around us. There are no gifts exchanged or emphasis on "What's under the tree"? Although glutenous, it's a day free of consumerism, and a day rooted in grace. It's a day when we reset our minds and truly think about what we are "thankful" for. Sure, some of us phone it in just to get to the turkey, but my hope is that if you're reading this, you'll stop and think about it.
This week will start the holiday craze in our nation. People will fight over SmartTVs at Walmart on Friday, and someone will complain to a minimum wage employee about how unjust it is that there were no more Bluey toys on sale. Children will write lists to Santa and parents will stress about finances and wanting to make all their children's dreams come true. I'm sure I will stress at some point, too- As someone who loves giving gifts (but hates receiving them! My love language is time- it's the only thing you can't get back) I will stress at some point making sure each gift is thoughtful and just enough. Of course, then you have the awkward moment of "backup gifts" in case someone unexpected gets you something and it's all become so much more than it should have.
It will always give me the blues to know a season of giving can turn into such chaos, and that's why I look to Thanksgiving.
Because if there's one thing I learned, how fortunate are we for what we have?
WITH SALT
It's the Holiday Season which means I will be responsible for desserts these next six weeks. Traditionally, I make cookies, profiteroles, Italian almond cookies, and cheesecake but this week I wanted to share a new recipe with you all.
I have been fascinated with the idea of Olive Oil cake for a few months now and this week I wanted to try my hand at infusing cake with earl grey tea. Clearly, I've been watching a lot of cooking shows but there had to be a reason people on TV did it, right? This cake blew me out of the water. It's dense, decadent, layered in flavor, and is the perfect dessert for Thursday. (I have already committed to Cheesecake but who knows, I might whip this up again, too)
INGREDIENTS:
¾ cup extra-virgin olive oil, (the greener the better when it comes to olive oil!)
½ cup Earl Grey Tea
½ cup Cocoa Powder (I used Hershey's)
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon fine sea salt
1cup granulated sugar
3 large eggs, at room temperature
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1.5 Cups of All Purpose Flour
½ teaspoon baking soda
PUT IT ALL TOGETHER
FIRST, Heat the oven to 325 degrees. Grease a 9-inch round pan and line the bottom with parchment paper.
THEN, In a medium saucepan over high heat, bring your earl grey tea to a simmer (I used one packet), and once it's boiling turn the heat off. Then, whisk in your Cocoa Powder, Cinnamon, and pinch of salt.
LET THAT COOL, and, In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine sugar, olive oil, eggs and vanilla., It's important the eggs are at room temperature because they mix better with the ingredients. Beat for about 3 minutes at medium speed until super smooth. Reduce speed and pour in cocoa mixture from the saucepan, scraping down the sides of the bowl. Gradually beat in flour and baking soda until just incorporated.
POUR IT INTO YOUR pan and then bake for 35-40 minutes. You want the inside to be a little lava-ish, but not undercooked.
Viola! You are the Italian Grandmother chef de jour! (yes, I realize that’s french. I’m working out my Julia Childs-like tagline!)
Don’t forget to tag @salt_withsoul on Instagram with the recipe!