G'mar Chatimah Tovah

Yesterday I completed, formatted, printed, and sent off The Yearly T'ruah, the Winicur family newsletter. I had set a goal of getting them in the mail before Yom Kippur, and I did it. Saturday afternoon, I stuffed about 25 High Holiday greeting cards in the mailbox. Never mind that they won't be sent out till Monday. I set my High Holidays goal and hit it.

I'm sure there is a greater lesson to be found here about waiting until the last minute to seek God's forgiveness on Yom Kippur when we had the entire year to make amends. If it weren't so late in the evening, I'm sure I could come up with a fascinating parable or amusing story to illustrate this.

Maybe the simple explanation is that Yom Kippur is our deadline for atonement and amends. Yom Kippur is the stop production, go to press, put your money down, show your cards moment when there are no more excuses. We have to face the new year with whatever we have. For one day, we stop all work, stop all pleasure, and reset our spiritual clocks. And then the deadline passes, and we can get on with our lives.

For all of you fasting, may you have an easy fast. For all of you reflecting, may you find peace in the new year.

And for all of you reading The Yearly T'ruah...may you not do any spit takes in public.

Shanah Tovah.

A Most Forgiving Honey Cake

Why is it that High Holidays always sneak up on me? How is it possible that year after year, I hit mid-September and suddenly realize that not only have I failed to write The Yearly T’ruah (our family newsletter), but the well of creativity has run dry? How is it conceivable that days before Rosh Hashanah, I suddenly realize that I have not yet baked any honeycakes or round challot? Where does the time go? It’s not as if Rosh Hashanah jumps around the Gregorian calendar. “What? Rosh Hashanah is in February this year? How odd, it was in late June last year.”

I have never been good with long-term planning. In fact, Shirah and I, after many years of marriage, finally discovered that our lives would be much easier if she took on the responsibility for long-term planning and I took on the responsibility for short-term planning. She is an excellent calendar keeper. She keeps all the family appointments, maintains our social calendar, and reminds me of upcoming events. I, on the other hand, make sure that we get to said events on time. It took us many years to hone this partnership, and we are considering trademarking our methodology, writing a self-help book, and selling it on late night TV.

If only I could finish writing this stupid family newsletter first.

Speaking of forgiveness (which we weren’t really, but segues take too much time), I have noticed that honey cake, a staple of Ashkenazic Jewish High Holiday tradition, is one of the most unforgiving cakes in the world. I have tried a variety of recipes, and they all follow the same theme…if you overbake this cake by 5 seconds, you might as well use it as a door stop or perhaps as some piece of minimalistic public art. How ironic that we celebrate a holiday about forgiveness with one of the more unforgiving delicacies. I have spent years hunting for a recipe that doesn’t prompt people to say, “Wow…that tastes…um...exotic. Especially the roasted flavor.”

After years of searching and experimenting, I present Zev’s Honey Cake recipe. I stole most of the recipe from Epicurious, but I have made enough changes that I now choose to claim it as my own. The biggest change is that I removed the mind altering drugs (coffee and brandy) and added carob powder and clove. Although clove has analgesic properties, I do not consider it a psychoactive drug like caffeine or alcohol. This is the perfect cake to serve to friends and family with alcohol or caffeine intolerances.

Of course, I eat my honey cake with a big cup of Irish coffee…but that’s just me.

Zev’s Honey Cake

1 ¾ cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. ground ginger
¼ tsp. clove
¾ tsp. baking soda
½ tsp. baking powder
¾ tsp. salt
1 cup honey
2/3 cup vegetable oil
1 Tbs. carob powder mixed in ½ cup hot water
2 large eggs
¼ cup packed brown sugar

Prepare a 9” x 5” x 3” loaf pan by oiling the pan well, dusting it with flour, and knocking out the excess. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

Whisk together flour, cinnamon, ginger, clove, baking soda, baking powder, and salt in a small bowl. Whisk together honey, oil, and carob water in another bowl until well combined.

Beat together eggs and brown sugar in a large bowl with an electric mixer at high speed 3 minutes. Add honey mixture and mix just until blended at a medium speed, about 1 minute. Add the flour mixture and mix with a spoon until just combined. Finish mixing the batter with a rubber spatula, scraping the bottom of the bowl.

Pour batter into the loaf pan and bake for 30 minutes. Cover the top loosely with foil and continue to bake until the cake begins to pull away from the sides of the pan and a toothpick or skewer inserted in the center comes out clean, about 15 minutes. Cool on a rack 1 hour.

Run a knife around side of the cake, then invert plate over cake and invert cake onto plate. Turn cake right side up on cooling rack and cool completely.

Zev’s notes:

Cake keeps at room temperature 1 week if wrapped tightly in plastic wrap or in an airtight container.

Resist the urge to cut into the cake to taste it while it is still warm. This will release the steam, and the cake will dry out sooner.

Let the cake sit at least one day before serving. The cake gets moister after a few days…or at least that’s what I’ve read. I usually can’t wait that long.

Remember to err on the side of underbaking rather than overbaking. Once the cake has baked 45 minutes, check it ever 3 minutes or so. YOU CAN NOT UNDO AN OVERBAKED HONEYCAKE.

L'Shanah Tovah from the President

L'Shanah Tovah Tikateivu. May you all be inscribed for a good year in the Book of Life, and may you have a sweet new year.

President Obama's Rosh Hashanah message to the country (and the world) is a wonderful message. I think our Rabbis should play it before their sermons tomorrow morning (on a timer so as not to violate Shabbat...obviously).

Mimbibbit - Part 1

Thank you, all of you, who participated in the second annual Monon Milestone Birthday Bike Tour. That is now the official name, mostly because I want to see if I can get people to casually refer to it as the MMBBT (pronounced "mimbibbit"). Hey, if Hoosiers can refer to IUPUI as "ooey-pooey" without giggling or refer to Broad Ripple without saying, "Mmm...that sounds good. I'll have a scoop too," than mimbibbit seems like a small leap.

We had beautiful weather on Saturday. Eleven of us (including me) started out together on the Monon, and probably no more than three of us (including me) actually finished the 34 miles round trip including the newly opened Westfield leg of the Monon. It doesn't matter. The fact that I got ten other people to join me was a great belated birthday present. And the fact that the youngest member of our group, who is only 7 years old, managed to bike at least 9 miles, is nothing short of amazing. You know who you are, and you are my hero.

Only one of the group refused to wear a bike helmet. You know who you are, and your mother and I are about to give you some major aggravation. Be prepared.

I find the Monon trail to be a fascinating ride, mostly because it cuts a cultural swath through the Indy metro area. There is no better way to understand Indianapolis/Carmel than to ride the Monon.

At 16th Street, you start at the Frank and Judy O'Bannon Old Northside Soccer Park, where you are sure to find young, athletic African men playing soccer. The international flair provides an interesting multicultural start to the trail.

You immediately travels north past lumber, construction, and trucking companies to see the blue collar backbone of our city.

You pass several grassy parks and eventually crosses Fall Creek to see a more pastoral view of the city. There is a rough, unkempt, authentic feel to this part of the trail...a feeling that even in the midst of the urban city, nature can take care of itself for a while.

You ride up to 38th Street, and if you can cross the two-lane road without dying or (worse yet) soiling yourself, you can pass by the Indiana State Fairgrounds. You will not actually see the fairgrounds themselves, but you will see all the trailers parked outside the fairgrounds. This provides an interesting view of all the "real" people supporting the State Fair. Actually, this part of the ride is kind of boring.

You travel north to see the backyards of many lower class houses. Slow down to watch people fixing cars, playing basketball, cooing over babies, mowing lawns, and generally being real life people.

Look to the right to see the Indiana School for the Deaf. It is a beautiful campus. The sunflowers are in full bloom now.

Continue north to Broad Ripple. Here everything feels more overgrown but in a controlled way. Lush gardens pop up right and left. The houses are still small, but the gardens make them look more young professional and less working class. To the right, you will pass Canterbury Park where a volleyball game between attractive 20-somethings is almost always in session. Young parents are strolling about the playground with their infants and toddlers. Most of them eye me suspiciously. I speed up.

Be careful. The traffic is increasing on the path, although nearly all of the pedestrians and bikers are still pretty respectful of the rules of the road.

Eventually you get to Broad Ripple Avenue, the new hippie business district. Take a jaunt over to Good Earth Natural Foods to stock up on Tiger's Milk bars. Or better yet, stop over at Red Mango Frozen Yogurt, a trendy new yogurt restaurant. Try their Tangomonium with fresh mango topping or (better yet) fresh raspberries.

North of Broad Ripple Avenue, high school students, college students, and young professionals walk and ride up and down the path. This is a great place to hang out if you want to pretend that you are still young and hip. Just please don't use the term "hip". That and your receding hairline will give you away.

At 67th Street, you pass the Indianapolis Art Center. Stop at the sculpture garden if you have a minute. Some of the art is incredibly engaging, especially the giant balls woven out of wicker...assuming they haven't taken them down yet.

As you get closer to the White River, enjoy the greenery. This is one of the prettiest parts of the trail. However, be careful. You are now entering the Zone of Extreme Stupidity. Here is where you are most likely to meet wildly veering pedestrians on cell phones, little children vapidly exploring the wrong side of the path, and hard core bikers speeding past you at 25 miles per hour without announcing themselves. It is hear that you are most likely to lose an appendage or wrap your bike around a baby stroller.

Please be careful.

However, the greenery is stunning along Marott Park. Next to this stretch of path are dense patches of trees, thick vines hanging low, and lush ground cover. It's a bit spooky at dusk. Not that I ever ride at dusk since that's against the rules of the trail. Obviously.

However, just north of 75th Street, stop for a minute at the entrance to the Indiana School for the Blind. This is a great place to eat your Tiger's Milk Bar and feel the tiled bas-relief sculptures standing tall like turquoise crystals ready to orate a mysterious ancestral history. They are very cool.

You continue north to 86th Street where you stop at Chris's Mexican Food to get a scoop of ice cream (assuming you are not already full from the frozen yoghurt and Tiger's Milk Bars). Chris's Mexican Food used to be Chris's Ice Cream Shop, and the irony is that the ice cream is much better now that the place is under new Mexican management and no longer called an ice cream shop. It is worth the stop, even if only for a $2 child size cone.

North of 86th Street, the trail stretches out into long stretches of new development. I call this the badlands. The badlands continue to 96th Street, where the Indianapolis portion ends, and a friendly sign invites you to Carmel, "A bicycle-friendly community." Naturally, you continue on...

(To be continued)

The Graduate Student Quiz

As a much as I love being the proprietor of a virtual restaurant, it is not what I would call a lucrative career choice…if by lucrative one means making any money whatsoever. Therefore, like most residents of the blogosphere, I am forced to seek a day job, one that provides me with a daily income, a feeling of self worth, a sense of personal accomplishment, and a legitimate excuse to get out of the house and maintain some sense of personal hygiene.

As a medical writer for a continuing medical education provider, part of my job involves writing grant applications and proposals to seek new sources of funding. Some of the proposals are small and some are big. Some of the proposals follow traditional models and some require more innovative thinking. Some of the proposals have long turnaround times and some have looming deadlines. As a matter of fact, I am currently working on one of those big, nasty, non-traditional proposals right now, and its deadline is looming ever closer like a hungry vulture circling over a wounded kitten.

Oh, yes. Just try to get to sleep tonight with that image stuck in your mind.

Interestingly, my recent work developing experimental designs for healthcare education studies has reminded me of my graduate school days. Thankfully, it reminds me of the good years of grad school – the years of exciting scientific discovery and learning – not the bad years of having my soul sucked away by experimental failure, impossibly high expectations, lack of direction, and a general erosion of self worth. It was kind of like a prolonged dementor attack without the giggles.

Yes, grad school was a mixed bag for me. In fact, it was in my last year of grad school that I wrote a quiz titled, “How close are you to finishing your thesis?” I think there were 5 questions to the quiz, but unfortunately only 4 of the 5 questions remain.

For all of you grad students out there, take heart. It will all soon be over, and it will get better. Of course, then you will have to find a REAL job. But that is your problem.

HOW CLOSE ARE YOU TO FINISHING YOUR THESIS?

1. What is daylight?
   
   
   
   1. God smiling on the earth
   
   
   2. That period of time between sunrise and sunset
   
   
   3. Something to do with “saving” and “time”
   
   
   4. A vicious lie



2. Your friends think you are:
   
   
   
   1. A lot of fun to be around.
   
   
   2. A little stressed.
   
   
   3. In major need of a vacation.
   
   
   4. What are “friends”?



3. Which of the following is the most stressful?
   
   
   
   
   1. Writing your thesis
   
   
   2. Cooking dinner
   
   
   3. Tending to a bleeding ankle while alien space invaders are firing on your encampment and your mother is standing over you discussing health insurance
   
   
   4. Can’t tell the difference



4. When someone asks you, “So, how’s the writing going?” you answer:
   
   
   
   
   1. “Thank you. It’s going well.”
   
   
   2. “What writing?”
   
   
   3. “Leave me alone.”
   
   
   4. “I will kill you, and they will never find the body.”

The Fourth Law of Thermodynamics

My father in his former life was a physical chemist, so I've known the first three laws of thermodynamics since I was about 7 years old:

1. Heat and energy are conserved. (You can't win.)
2. Entropy is always increasing. (You can't break even.)
3. It is impossible to cool a system to absolute zero. (So don't even try.)

Frankly, I think there should be a fourth law: There are an infinite number of people ready to burst your bubble at any given time.

About a week ago, I was seated next to a colleague who I knew was an avid biker. "Hey," I said proudly. "Last Saturday I biked the Monon trail...34 miles!"

"Hmm..." he said gruffly, "last Saturday I biked 160 miles. I did the Ride Across INdiana."

"Oh," I said. And then feeling like I ought to comment further on his understated accomplishment, I added, "Um...cool."

Yesterday, after a long day of work, I took a long bike ride up and down the Monon. I wheeled my bike back to the office just as one of our directors was leaving the building. Feeling somewhat proud of myself, I told her in as cool and matter-of-fact a voice as possible that I had just biked 22 miles. "Wow," she said. "That's great. Good for you! You know, when I was in college, I used to bike 20 miles every day."

Yes, an endless supply of killjoys...

So, I hope, Dear Reader, that you will not let the air out of my tires (metaphorically speaking) when I tell you that I plan to ride the Hilly Hundred next October. The Hilly Hundred is a bike tour in central Indiana that covers 100 miles of hilly road over two days. It is a grueling event of camaraderie and endurance...or at least it certainly sounds like it based on all the promo material.

Last year, upon facing my 40th birthday milestone, I biked the Monon trail round trip. At the time, 34 miles seemed like a daunting and yet doable personal goal...a feat of strength to show the world that I could take 40 in headlock, throw it to the ground, and give it one hell of a noogie.

Yeah, well that was last year. Onward and upward. So, I'm telling you all now of my plan to do the Hilly Hundred . I figure that if I mention this publicly to enough people, I won't be able to wimp out. Nothing keeps you on track of your personal goals like public humiliation.

However, the Monon Milestone Birthday Ride is now an official yearly event. I am planning the ride for August 29th, a mere 16 days after my birthday. You are all invited, and I hope you will join me on the 34-mile ride up and down the Monon trail. As we did last year, we will celebrate the end of the ride with drinks and dinner at the Broadripple Brew Pub.

And any of you who wish to join me on the Hilly Hundred, please do so. But if you do, please try not to ride circles around me or brag about your own bicycling exploits. I have a fragile ego, and I have enough killjoys in my life.

Orzo Ruach Pasta Salad

I came up with this pasta salad recipe on the drive home from work the other day. I had to prepare something for a potluck dinner, and I needed to do something different. I just couldn't face doing the same Mediterranean-ish rotini pasta salad with feta, mint, cucumber, tomato, and red wine vinegraitte. Granted, that's a good dish too, but I had done it to death and ennui was setting in. So, I came up with a new recipe, and I'm very proud of it.

The name of the recipe is a Hebrew pun, but it's probably not worth trying to explain it on the blog. Just pat me on the head and say, "That's nice dear."

This recipe makes quite a bit as you would expect for a potluck dish. If you are making it for your family, I would recommend cutting in half. Or make the full amount and bring it for lunch the next day. Everyone will ooh and aah...right before they defrost their Lean Cuisine.

Orzo Ruach Salad

1 ½ cups dry orzo
2 cups cooked chick peas
1 medium-size cucumber
1 large tomato
¼ cup chopped fresh mint
¼ cup kalamata olives
¼ cup sesame seeds
½ cup water
2 Tbs. lemon juice
1 Tbs. olive oil
¼ tsp. salt
1 tsp. sesame oil
½ tsp. cumin
2 cloves pressed garlic

Cook the orzo according to package directions. It should be al dente. Drain the pasta.

Coursely chop the cucumber, tomato, and olives and mix into the orzo.

In a food processor, process the sesame seeds until they become powdery. Add the remaining ingredients and continue processing until the dressing is thoroughly mixed and slightly frothy. Mix the dressing into the orzo.