The Burned Parts

My dear wife Malacy is terribly afraid of burning things while sautéing on the stove or roasting in the oven. She constantly is peeking underneath to see if something is getting a tad too black to be considered slightly charred. She flips toast twenty times for grilled cheese, she slides fish around dozens of times and she wishes she had Superwoman x-ray vision when she’s making pancakes!

But a few days ago out of thin air, she said, ‘Charleston, I saw a cooking show that was talking about de-glazing the pan after sautéing and they said that really it’s the burned parts that end up adding the most flavour to a dish! Surely there is a theological metaphor in that, right.’ I quickly interjected, ‘If so, I hope it has nothing to do with eternal flames and endless heat’!

Technically, what’s happening here in her statement is this: after something has sautéed in a pan or roasted in the oven, especially after sautéing meat, most people pour a significant amount of the fat off just after they remove the meat from the cooking surface. Caramelized meat juices and herbs, however, stay behind, and they need transforming in order to be useful. A liquid, preferably wine, is added as a solvent so that you can scrape the caramelized meat juices, i.e., the ‘burned parts’, and create the basis for a tasty and versatile sauce. At that point, you’re free to add herbs for flavour, shallots and other root veggies (pureed first) for taste or even butter to thicken the reduction. What you then have, of course, is the beginnings of what is commonly referred to as a base sauce – au jus roti or fond in French – or, if you’re Southern, you’ve got gravy – though Southerners add a starch to most all of their gravies from some reason.

But Malacy wasn’t really interested in making sauces or hearing about the science of gravy; rather, she was proposing a serious theological truism without even knowing it.

The metaphor is thus: the burned parts, the remnants that must be deglazed, you see, are those parts of our lives that need scraping up and the fragments that need to be transformed into something more useful, something enduring, something renewed, something restored and something overflowing with forgiveness and peace. And transformation is God’s business.

And this is two-fold. First, who can deny that we have parts of our lives that God needs to touch? Do you have or know of a broken marriage, a strained relationship, a troubled teen? Of course you do; we all do! And that's the first part.

The second part of this, the completing couplet, consists of allowing Jesus Christ Himself to be that solvent – that flush of wine – poured into the burned over parts of our lives so that His grace, mercy and healing can transform us so that we may abide in His Divine Love.

Otherwise, the burned bits simply are useless; they stick to the pan indefinitely, or, metaphorically, they remain stuck to us – stuck to our hearts and keep the light of God’s grace and forgiveness from flooding our darkest tombs.

The point of all of this is simple: we all need healing, and we all need mercy. And we need it all the time. And God’s mercy, grace and love never run out. It’s real, it’s available – especially in His holy Sacraments – and it’s the only thing in this life and the next worth being scraped up and transformed in order to know.

Finally, next time you roast a whole chicken (or sauté pork or beef), try this simple deglazing recipe.

Deglazing Sauce for Roast Chicken

Ingredients

3 Tablespoons finely minced shallots
1/3 cup dry vermouth
1/4 cup dry white wine
2/3 cup or more chicken stock or broth
Salt and freshly ground pepper
2 Tablespoons unsalted butter

Instructions

Remove the chicken from the roasting pan and set aside to rest. Place a strainer set over a small saucepan. Tilt the roasting pan so the remaining fat and juices accumulate in one corner. Carefully spoon off most of the fat and discard.

Place the roasting pan on a stove burner over medium heat; add the shallots and stir for a moment until sizzling. Pour in the wine or vermouth and the stock and heat rapidly to a simmer, vigorously scraping up all the glazed bits in the pan. Cook briefly until the glaze is melted and the liquid is slightly syrupy. Strain into the saucepan.

Taste the sauce and adjust seasoning; you may add more wine or stock and boil it down a bit to thicken. Whisk in the butter just before serving over low heat.

Check the Box

Oh how many times growing did I hear those infamous and dreaded dinner time words, 'Charleston, eat your vegetables'! Heck, the better question may be how many times do I pronounce that same killjoy over my own children?

And it's really comical to expect anybody - let alone a child - to survey an ocean of delicacies presented to them only to assume they'll go straight for the vegetables, which, if we're true to American fashion, would be there only as nutritional afterthoughts, by which I mean, usually when we let our obsession with vegetables manifest itself, they've appeared at mealtime because we've read that eating them will make us live forever (thank you Time, People, Good Housekeeping, etc.), and having a veggie or two serves to temper the guilt of having a huge portion of fat and carbs on the very same plate. And we all know that an overabundance of fat and carbs just looks better with a little greenery around the plate!

I'm only saying what Julia Child noticed forty years ago; namely, she recognised a sharp dichotomy between American and French concepts of vegetables and their role in our cookery: 'The French are interested in vegetables as food rather than as purely nutrient objects valuable for their vitamins and minerals'. But here Stateside many meals that include vegetables are only there as if we're checking the box, so to speak. Most of us see vegetables not 'as food' but as medicine! We include them because we think we're checking a box that enrolls us in the responsible eaters club, whatever that may be at the moment. We might, then, technically eat our share of vegetables, but we tend to neglect the many tried-and-true techniques for bringing out the French objective of producing 'a cooked green vegetable so green, so fresh-tasting, and full of flavour that it really can be served as a separate course'.

Now, before you make this a French vs. the U.S. kind of issue - which it's not - I want you to ask yourself this arresting question: Do you really spend time contemplating how you might enhance your joie de vivre by including a well-prepared vegetable, or do you plan the other parts of meal first and then frantically figure out something green to include, especially when company is coming? Gotcha, huh!?! Like I said, we're just checking the box!

So let me share with you a lovely vegetable course that's accessible, fresh-tasting and even good for us, to boot!

Petits Pois Étuvés au Beurre
Baby Green Peas

Ingredients

1 10 oz. package of frozen select green peas (never used canned!)
2 TBSP unsalted butter
1 TBSP minced shallots
2 TBSP tarragon (if you can't get fresh, Penzey's is the closest www.penzeys.com)
1/4 tsp of sea salt
Pinch of pepper
16 oz. chicken or vegetable broth

Instructions

Bring the chicken broth and minced shallots to a rapid boil over high heat. Add green peas, stir and cook on high heat for no more than 5 minutes. Immediately pass the peas and shallots through a colander and then place them in a serving dish that already has in it the remaining ingredients. Stir and serve at once. This must be done at the last minute, or the peas will lose their springiness and will require reconstituting.

A Final Word

And eating tasteless vegetables isn't the only box many modern Americans are checking these days. I meet tons of well-meaning folks who aren't afraid to tell you, 'O yeah, I'm a professing Christian, so let's move on to what we need to do'. And they mean to say, 'I've got my ticket punched, so I'm doing my part and God will do His'.

But do we really want to reduce the greatest reality of the entire universe to an insurance policy or a box that we check? This was the question our new Dean and President proposed to us just this week at Mass, and it got me thinking.

I think the answer is no, of course, we don't want to do reduce Christianity to a mere checklist or relegate it entirely to a one-time experience or lack thereof, nor, conversely, do we want a faith that finds its only comfort in voting for God, which is a way a saying we don't want a faith that finds its existence tied only to what it can deliver (St. Peter is blushing, no?).

You see, if Christianity means anything at all, it has to deliver what it promises. Otherwise, it's just another empty box that we're checking. It's no different than eating vegetables only because we think that's how we should vote. I mean, eating veggies is a fond thing, but if its only for a nutritional afterthought, have we really done anything worth while? Likewise, if we simply choose Christianity as another 'nutritional afterthought', does it really even matter?

But thanks be to God Christianity does deliver what it promises! And it does so because it's not about us making and then breaking promises; rather, it's about what God has and is doing for us through His Son Jesus Christ, and He does deliver.

He delivered us Himself - His Son - to live as one of us, to heal us, and, above all, to redeem us. That's no box to check, dear ones, that's a promise to be received, cherished and adored forever.

The Place of Picnics

Don’t neglect picnics. Read that again, so it sticks: don’t neglect picnics! And I’m admonishing myself just as I remind you. I, too, had forgotten the joys that come from a picnic with friends.

Just last week, I lead a group of foodies on a gustatory pilgrimage to Paris, France, and they requested that we have a picnic one afternoon. They weren’t looking for anything grand or gastronomique; rather, they simply wanted a basic French picnic and a couple of hours to enjoy the food, wine, friendship and scenery. They wanted to experience that hallmark of authentic French life, a passion for the joie de vivre.

I’m so glad they insisted we have a picnic; I’d totally forgotten how much fun they are, despite Malacy frequently recommending that we enjoy one (should have listened to her, aye?)

So I planned our picnic, and I’d like to share it with you, albeit in a modified form that will be a bit easier to pull off in an American context.

But before I share a couple of picnic staples, let me just say a few things concerning the rudiments of any picnic.

First of all, a picnic should be impromptu, by which I mean that a picnic should never appeared staged or contrived. You shouldn’t need an Orvis catalogue nor a copy of Food & Wine to pull off an amazing picnic. Rather, a picnic should be spur of the moment and consist of delights that are fresh, easy to procure and easily transported. A memorable picnic, moreover, will seek out the perfect blend between sun and shade, beauty and tranquility.

A picnic is also an intimate event, not intended to exceed six people. When a picnic becomes a tailgate party, the whole concept has changed and loses much of its mystique and charm.

More specifically, the contents of the entire picnic should easily fit into one bag, or, of course, the traditional picnic basket, though I find them clumsy, over-priced and emblematic of the contrived nature of picnics. I do, however, believe you should take real utensils and napkins. Don’t we get enough fake silver and plastic anyways? Napkins can easily be thrown in the wash with your other whites and dirty silverware can be placed in a Ziploc for the ride home.

If some of your potential picnickers include children, throw in a Frisbee, a deck of cards and a kite. They’re cheap, simple, fun and take up very little space in the bag.

Finally, be open to whatever may happen. I’m continually amazed when traditional barriers to dining are removed (i.e., eschewing having a tablecloth clad table, being dressed up, being waited upon, etc.), the whole afternoon becomes a time of laughter, relaxation and blessing. A picnic becomes, then, an extension of a life filled with joy and one that marvels at God’s provision and handiwork in nature. ‘The earth is Lord’s for He made it. Come let us adore Him’, beckons the Psalmist.

A Traditional Picnic

For 4-6 people

Ingredients

Two Loaves of Good Bread – the entirety of a good picnic rises or falls on the quality of the bread. Don’t think for one minute that industrial bread will suffice. Ideally, on the way to the picnic you would stop and pick up a fresh baguette or country loaf. These must be ridiculously fresh, preservative-free and homemade. Find a boulangerie near you, and don’t accept the fact that you don’t have one! Bakers, though they’re quickly becoming harder and harder to find, still make bread in virtually every town across the country.

Two Good Cheeses – I recommend one semi-soft cow’s milk cheese and one mild goat’s cheese. My particular choices of the moment are: Saint-André, a lovely creamy cow’s milk cheese from Coutance, France, and Humboldt Fog, which is an elegant, soft, surface ripened cheese from California. Both of these cheeses, or cheeses like them, are readily available in most specialty grocers in the USA (i.e., Whole Foods, Fresh Market, etc.). Depending on your love of cheese, get a pound of the cow’s milk and ¾ of a pound of the goat’s cheese.

Pâté en croute or Pâté de Foie Gras – If you don’t want to break the bank – and a picnic shouldn’t – ask your local butcher to recommend his best pâté. If, however, you don’t trust your butcher (find a new one!) and you do want to break the bank, you can always order excellent pâté from the likes of Dean & Deluca, Fauchon, DiBruno Brothers and Petrossian. They will ship it right to your door! Or, if you’re more Italian than French, Prosciutto and Sopressata can replace the pâté – a happy heap of both would be ideal. Again, most specialty markets have good Italian cured meats; however, if you’re dead set on spending a ton to get only the best, you can order the finest from DiBruno Brothers in Philadelphia. Even Costco has perfectly adequate Prosciutto.

Fresh Fruit – simple enough to be overlooked, but necessary nonetheless. Just pick up something fresh. Don’t bother carving a statue out of a watermelon; just pick up something fresh and tasty. I’m keen at the moment on fresh figs and strawberries. Just rinse and put in a Ziploc.

Something Sweet – I said this was picnic was adapted to American audiences, so why not make brownies or homemade chocolate chip cookies? For boxed brownies use Ghirardelli, and for good homemade chocolate chip cookies, the Joy of Cooking cannot be surpassed.

Water & Wine – one large bottle of water (I prefer sparkling for picnics; Perrier, Pelligrino or Badoit) and one bottle of nice Beaujolais or Rosé from Tavel is all you need. Tavel is a small region northeast of Avignon, France; I’m keen on 2008 Chateau d'Aqueria (bone-dry with crisp acidity and pepper nuances). As far as stemware goes, opt for lowball juice glasses that can be easily transported and won’t break.

Relax & Engage - Don’t rush the moment. Set aside two or three hours to linger over the food, the scenery and one another’s companionship. Tell jokes, look at the sky, read a book and bask in the sun! This, friends, is a picnic par excellence!

At the core of this post, however, is an invitation to engage nature and the day with others. And that’s not easy in our indoor and insular culture. Christians in previous epochs would be shocked and saddened to learn that we didn’t spend much time marveling at God’s handiwork in nature around us, and that we didn’t find time to share an afternoon outside with others.

‘The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork’, signals the Psalmist. May we, too, make these words our own.

Consider Classicism

Over the course of the summer, I’ve tried to enhance our household joie de vivre by re-focusing our kitchen once again on unpretentious classics. And this word bears repeating: classic. This means we’ve sought only fresh local ingredients and then prepared them in timeless ways.

And I suppose this is all motivated in part by the fact that I’m continually appalled by the abysmal state of cookery in most cities across the United States. And this covers the entire spectrum: from quick serve casual to casual family-style restaurants all the way to gastromique fine-dining, I’m continually underwhelmed, to whit, recently I was in Milwaukee having lunch at what was billed as ‘fresh European café’ only to find myself being given salad dressing in a pouch and Neste pre-bottled tea! Come on, folks; is it really that much to expect fresh salad dressing and freshly brewed tea, especially in a European café?

And much of this malaise is, I believe, the result of trying to continually re-invent the wheel in an effort to bring flavours from every corner of the globe into one kitchen and then say this is genuine progress and convenience. But this isn’t all that necessary, friends.

The ‘European café’ patted itself on the back for offering me ginger, chipotle, saffron dressing and a tea that had at least thirty-five ingredients. But when I hear the words ‘European café’, I think of classically prepared fresh dishes – say, for instance, field greens with dijon vinaigrette and fresh goat cheese or a simple freshly-baked baguette with a thin layer of butter and prosciutto. Heck, even a hot dog could be counted a classic in the appropriate setting. But instead I got pre-washed lettuce (think plastic taste) with a packet of dressing! From all such calamities, save us O Lord!

But the story doesn’t end there, dear ones.

After lunch I found myself in a lovely market acquiring fresh heirloom tomatoes, fresh basil, and a few other twists. If you’re reading this and predicting an Insalata Caprese recipe is forthcoming, you’re right!

However, this is my own take on the classic, supplanting the traditional DOC Mozzarella with feta and adding pine nuts for additional depth. I’ve served this as a main course, but it really is best as a hearty starter (not pictured above).

Charleston’s Caprese Salad

Ingredients

4 large heirloom tomatoes (choose a colourful medley, opting for gold, orange and reddish varietals. This salad begs for heirlooms only; trust me. And don’t store tomatoes in the fridge.)

1 container heirloom cherry tomatoes (again, a mixed assortment is best; however, simple tear drop grape tomatoes will work, too.)

4 TBSP extra virgin olive oil

3 TBSP aged balsamic vinegar (Fini brand is the gold standard of vinegar)

Fresh cracked pepper

Maldon sea salt flakes (order from Amazon or any reputable purveyor)

8 TBSP crumbled Feta cheese

8 TBSP fresh basil (cut into 1/8 inch strips)

6 TBSP toasted pine nuts

Instructions

Toast the pine nuts in a small sauté pan over medium heat until slightly browned on all sides (continually shake the pan to avoid burning). Set aside to cool.

Slice the tomatoes into ¼ inch slices, discarding the portions of the tomatoes closest to where they were plucked from the vine, which can be too tough for enjoying. Slice the cherry tomatoes lengthwise in half. Fan the sliced tomatoes out on the plates you will use for service. I like using long rectangular plates for this dish; the round objects set on a rectangular background make for a stunning visual presentation.

Combine the balsamic vinegar and olive oil in a bowl and mix till well-blended together, and using a spoon, ladle the balsamic mixture evenly over each tomato.

Sprinkle the fresh basil evenly across the four plates. Do the same with the feta.
Top each tomato with just a tiny dot of pepper and a few crystals of Maldon before evenly sprinkling the pine nuts on top. Serve immediately.

A Final Word

The summer of classic cuisine hasn’t been an end in and of itself; rather, this has been the summer of back to the basics of classical Christianity as well. And this is a fine thing because much of what is out there is not really Christian discourse at all. Much of what passes for modern-day Christianity is nothing more than a hodgepodge of ancient heresies rebranded and let loose once more.

Consider just one prevalent example: how many times have I heard someone say (usually a self-professed Christian no less) that all religion boils down to being nice and trying to live a morally upright life, whatever that is.

It is precisely this type of worldview that robs Christianity of its heart of mercy, love, Incarnation, Atonement, Resurrection and grace. Tell me anything, but don’t tell me the Lord of the whole universe – the Great I Am – came to earth for any other purpose than to save me and restore the Divine Image. All other speech is simply poppycock, dear ones.

Christian Smith and Melinda Lundquist Denton in their excellent book, Soul Searching: The Religious and Spiritual Lives of American Teenagers have done a great job explaining this phenomenon, even giving it a catchy moniker – moral therapeutic deism, which, after interviewing thousands of American youth, was the catchphrase they adopted to encapsulate a cosmology that chose to eschew classic Christian doctrine in favour of one that says the supreme aim of life is to be good, nice, and fair to each other. Can you say yuck or what?

Post-modernity has been able to cast off what adherents consider the shackles of classical – and, in their view, repressive – Christianity by telling a tall tale of man, who, according to Victorian poet William Ernest Henley, speaks softly to himself: ‘I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul’. But woe is he who lifts up himself, says a poor saviour from Nazareth.

If you’re looking for pure, unadulterated classic Christian doctrine, look to the same old story of God and sinners reconciled and the great ‘Jehovah of Thunders’ (Kipling), whose Kingdom has come near!

Now, you could point out – if you’re overly scrupulous – that I, too, have abandoned the classic caprese and, therefore, have overthrown my very own aim of restoring classical cuisine from the get go. But hold on; my recipe is true development, that is, augmentation, not subtraction. My construction flows from the original, but doesn’t overthrow its core – those being, tomatoes, basil and cheese.

Likewise, anything that flows from a Christ-centred worldview is simply an outward manifestation of the pre-existent reality that God Himself is revealed in the face of Christ, that is, any outworking in the Christian’s life that makes the world think we’re really nice and all that is really just an affirmation of Our Lord’s own words, ‘I am the vine and you are the branches. Apart from me you can do nothing’.

In other words, if you really feel like being nice and morally upright, good on you for bearing fruit that pleases your Heavenly Father. But woe to all of us who take all the credit. This fruit is only the result, not the source of our joy. We mustn’t forget this! So, yes, our Christianity is free to evolve as long as it lifts up its unchangeable source, God revealed in Christ who came to save, not so we could be 'nice'.

Okay, I’m rambling, so let me simply leave you by reminding you of two things: first, don’t accept the notion that food has to be overly complex to be good, and, secondly, don’t think for one second that classical Christianity is anything else other than the story of Jesus Christ, the friend of sinners, who came to earth to restore, heal and save us.

Consider Transfiguration

We’ve just celebrated the Transfiguration of Our Lord, which, given its profundity, bears repeating.

Jesus beckons Peter, John and James to ascend the mountain to pray (which tradition says is Mt. Tabor). And while our Lord was praying, He was transfigured, that is, he experienced a metamorphosis (according to the Greek) that changed His face and made his clothes ‘dazzling white’. Peter, John and James also saw Moses and Elijah talking to Jesus. St. Peter, zealous as usual, wants to build a tent to capture the moment. But a cloud surrounds them and a voice from above says ‘This is my son, LISTEN TO HIM’.

Now this singular event in Our Lord’s life is nothing less than the divine confirmation of Jesus’ messiahship and the full affirmation that this Jesus was indeed He who would deliver the world from sin, bondage and even the sting of death. So amazing was this miracle that St. Thomas Aquinas, the brilliant scholastic theologian of the thirteenth century, considered it the ‘greatest miracle’ of the Jesus’ earthly life, especially inasmuch it foreshadowed the Blessed vision of heaven given to all children of God at Baptism. He devoted no less than four chapters of his Summa to unpacking its meaning. Furthermore, this miracle – this Transfiguration of Our Lord – is a way for us to be reminded of the full glory of God revealed in Christ. And that reality - beholding the Christ - is the only thing that matters, friends.

But that's not all I have to say about transfiguration. Actually, while I was pondering this miracle, my mind quickly wandered into the realm of gastronomy and what I could do to transfigure, that is, transform and enhance a few things here and there. The first thing that came to my mind was the sad state of a popular side dish: steamed wild rice, which, if you share the plight of many, desperately needs transfiguring.

Where I grew up (i.e., in the South) when most people mentioned wild rice, they meant something that came in an Uncle Ben’s box (yikes!). Now, without offending dear ole Ben too much and thereby subverting my superior Southern roots - where I surely had my fill of the boxed stuff - I have to remind us that Ben’s varietal is a far cry from genuine wild rice and what it really can be. And believe it or not, Yankees really know how to grow and cook wild rice. But in true paradoxical fashion, it was a Southern belle who gave me this recipe many years ago, and it has ever since transfigured my thinking on the subject of wild rice.

Actually, Ben’s version isn’t wild rice at all; it’s simply white rice with some spices to give it colouring. And I suppose that’s fine if you want salty white rice with some colouring. But if you’re looking to transfigure, by which I mean, transform, your notion of wild rice, try this old favourite.

Yankee Wild Rice Au Gratin

(Serves 8)

Ingredients

¾ lb. real wild rice (Roland grade ‘A’ from Minnesota is the best and can be purchased on Amazon in 1lb. increments)
1 ½ cup chopped sweet onion
1 ½ cup chopped celery
1 stick of unsalted butter
½ lb. grated sharp cheddar cheese
¼ lb. grated Grana Padano
1 lb. sliced fresh button mushrooms
1 cup half and half
4 cups chicken broth

Instructions

Cook rice in broth until tender. Drain and rinse well and set aside to cool. Sauté onion and celery in butter over medium-high heat till tender. Mix all ingredients but half and half and Grana Padano and place in a gratin dish (I prefer Apilco bakeware, which is readily available at Williams-Sonoma). Sprinkle Grana Padano on top and pour the half and half evenly over the mixture. Bake at 350 degrres for 45 minutes or until the liquid has been absorped into the rice mixture. You may wish to broil the top for the last two minutes of the baking time to give a nice crisp texture to the outer layer of the dish.

This dish can be assembled twenty-four hours before you plan to cook it; just refrain from adding the half and half and store in the fridge. This dish also freezes well – again, leave out the half and half until you’re ready to bake.

Consider Simple

The Christian faith is simple, and don't let people -- well-meaning as they may be -- tell you otherwise. The Sacred Tradition of the Church -- replete with its indispensable theological discourse -- is vast and takes several lifetimes of study to appreciate, but the essentials of Christianity are straightforward, period.

Let anyone with ears listen: the Christian faith is simple. And simple, by the way, in my mind means 'singular, without duplicity, pure and without complication', which is its true etymology.

And the story of Christianity is thus: Jesus Christ, true God and true man, came down from heaven to redeem us and to adopt all those who place their hope in Him as heirs of God's Kingdom. Or put another way, that is, the Creedal way:

We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ...who for us and for our salvation came down from heaven, was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary. For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered death and was buried. On the third day he rose again in accordance with the Scriptures; he ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.

And this is the authentic Christian story, the ultimate Truth of the universe upon which everything else stands or falls. And it's really refreshingly simple. Sure, it is profound, very weighty indeed; I mean, the implications that are borne from the Christ Event never cease.

But this Divine Love, at its core, is simple, which is why it is 'so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all', as the hymn reminds us. If Christianity were overly ambiguous -- say consisting of some ten steps for self-actualisation or providing some quirky methodology for overcoming our Prufrockian paralyses -- it would mean very little at the end of the day, no?

I suppose I'm saying that if Christianity was all about what we should, could, or didn't do, it would be devoid of its divine origin and regenerative grace; it would, conversely, be all about us, not about what God has and is doing through Christ. It would cease to be simple in every sense of the word. It would become yet another cumbersome, complex and useless scheme for self-help.

So we mustn't forget for one moment that Christianity is SIMPLE! It’s all about what God has done for us through Christ.

And not only is the core of Christianity simple, that is, clear-cut and to-the-point, but Christian Truth is even short, to boot, by which I mean brief -- which once again proves that brevity and profundity are timeless soul mates. The entirety of the Nicene Creed, the succinct and sufficient summation of the Faith, is only two-hundred or so words. Heck, Hamlet's famous soliloquy -- you know it, 'To be or not to be...' -- is thrice as long and hardly changes our lives.

Still, though, Hamlet's speech is the most memorised piece of world literature. But I ask you: is it simple? Similarly, the first verse of the Star Spangled Banner is barely shorter than the Creed, and it ends with a question for crying out loud (can you say confusing or what?)! Yet people recite and take comfort in its quirky and confusing prose. Neither documents are what we would call simple. They may be fun and entertaining, but they’re hardly simple. Actually, they’re rather complex and idiosyncratic, requiring quite a bit of reflection to yield any meaning.

And this leads me to my final point. In a world obsessed with add-ons and frills, and amidst a culture that expends most of its energy debating semi-colons in secular courts of law, I hasten to remind us that by recalling Christianity is both unchanging and dependably straightforward is in fact the most incredible, refreshing and efficacious news we can hear! Don't miss it: Christianity is 'elementary my dear Watson', to borrow a phrase.

Thanks be to God for the straightforwardness that is Christianity!

And I say all of this neither to diminish the profundity nor the vastness that is the living Christian Tradition. Actually, I'm quite keen on the whole Tradition that our Faith has bequeathed to us.

Rather, I mention the essentials of our Faith purely in a manner in which you may find refreshing and as a segue to another simple facet of life; namely, the simplicity of fresh sumptuous summer salads and their role in our cookery.

Don't be fooled or intimidated, brothers and sisters, by enjoying wonderful salads at home. And please don't believe that you should purchase a bottled dressing to add complexity to your greens; make your own – ‘tis simple!

In his cookbook Simple French Recipes for the Home Cook, renowned French chef and culinary expert Guy Savoy warns: ‘We are in danger of losing sight of what is simple, so home cooking has now become a new frontier, an approach we have to learn all over again’. You see, even in cooking we have to be reminded to go back to basics and discover again the roots of our cuisine.

I recall many fond memories of this simple salad as a child. My family made it often, and it is really a basic green salad with a lovely and easily made homemade mustard vinaigrette, requiring only family and friends to enjoy.

Simple Summer Salad

Ingredients for six servings

3 heads of Boston Bibb lettuce (washed, dried, and pulled apart, while trying to keep whole leafs intact)
1 head of green leaf lettuce (washed, dried, and pulled apart, while trying to keep whole leafs intact)
1 egg yolk
2 ½ teaspoons of minced garlic
3 stems chopped green onion
1 ½ teaspoons Dijon mustard (not coarse-grained)
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
5 tablespoons of white wine vinegar
1 ½ cup of extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons of chopped chives

Instructions
Mix the lettuces together and set aside. Make the dressing by combining all other ingredients except the olive oil and chives in a mixing bowl. Slowly add in olive oil while vigorously whisking mixture until frothy. Drizzle dressing over the lettuce. Top with fresh chives. Serve immediately with a cold fork.

Consider Vacation

The apostles returned to Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. And he said to them, ‘Come away by yourselves to a quiet place, and rest a while’. St. Mark 6:30-32.

For many people, summer means a family vacation. Whether it’s a trip or two to the lake, the beach or even that rare but precious jaunt to Europe, summer seems like the time we’re most inclined to be on the move.

And vacations are important. That bears repeating: vacations are important.

I mention this twice simply because many people, especially busy Westerners like us, feel guilty about taking time off to rest and relax. We have fallen hook line and sinker for the notion that we must be productive all the time. If the bottom line isn’t growing, we’re falling down on the job, as it were.

I actually have a friend who doesn’t go on vacation with his family; instead, he sends them and tells them to have fun and he’d rather stay and work. This is more than a little unhealthy, friends.

But conversely, life is not all about vacations either. To spend all of our lives dreaming of that next big vacation would simply be hedonism writ large. Furthermore, a real vacation doesn’t have to be all that grand, really. A simple weekend trip can be enough to get some rest and return refreshed. Then again, that once-in-a-lifetime trip overseas may be just what the doctor ordered. Even a simple day-long picnic with good wine and friends can fill the bill; I think, however, we’re technically supposed to call this option a ‘staycation’.

But we have to exercise a bit of caution, for a vacation that is too action packed is hardly a vacation at all. A dear friend of mine recently remarked that she and her family had just returned from their vacation, and she needed another vacation to get over it! That is no vacation!

A real vacation is one that upholds Jesus at its centre, period.

No, friends, I’m not saying every vacation has to be a religious pilgrimage or one that includes having James Earl Jones read the Bible on tape. I’m not saying that at all, though Darth Vader’s voice is always tres cool.

What I’m saying is that Christ is our refreshment, our regeneration and our rest. And if we don’t recognise that fact our supposed vacations are for naught. ‘Come unto me all ye who travail and are heavy laden, and I shall refresh you’, beckons Jesus. That’s what He meant when he told the disciples to ‘Come away by yourselves to a quiet place, and rest a while’. The disciples had been occupied with the tiresome work of ministry, and they needed a break. But they needed a break to once more cast their gaze on Christ, not to escape reality.

Translated to our own day, we are those disciples who’ve been exhausted by the cares of the world and have forgotten to go away and ‘rest a while’. Is God calling you to take a vacation?

Above all else, while we're vacationing this summer we mustn’t forget that true rest only comes from resting in the One in whom we truly ‘live and move and have our being’. And time spent in His presence is indeed genuine rest! Perhaps this is why the word holiday in the fourteenth century meant both a 'religious festival' and 'a day of recreation'. Oh how we, too, must come to see our holidays as both religious occasions and time for recreation!

Finally, when I think of road trips with the family I think of that great Southern road trip staple: pimento cheese sandwiches. I still remember the shock I suffered when I learned that Yankees didn’t keep this staple handy! Oh well...

These sandwiches are great for a road trip, especially with kids. Try picking a scenic place to stop and enjoy these. They pair well with a light-bodied summer Rosé from Tavel in the Rhone Valley of France, and they're more hearty than you think. They keep well in the cabin of the car for hours without refrigeration.

Southern Road Trip Pimento Cheese

Ingredients

2 cups extra-sharp grated Cheddar cheese
½ cup grated pepper jack cheese
1/2 cup mayonnaise, plus some for sandwiches
1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
1/4 teaspoon onion powder
Dash of Tabasco Sauce
1 (4 oz.) jar diced pimento, drained
salt and black pepper to taste
sliced loaf bread, crust removed (white, wheat or sourdough boule)

Instructions

Allow cheeses to reach room temperature. Mix all ingredients in a mixing bowl, stirring well to ensure all ingredients are well-blended. Spread desired amount of mayonnaise on both sides of bread, spoon in cheese mixture and slice sandwiches in half.