Category Archives: friends

St. John the Wonderworker

holy-virgin-cathedral-1 sfOur friends Mr. and Mrs. C drove Mr. Glad and me to San Francisco this morning for a visit to Holy Virgin Cathedral, the “Joy of All Who Sorrow.” We were going there for the same reason many people come from all over the world, to pray at the relics of St. John (Maximovitch) of Shanghai and San Francisco.

Strange as it may seem to find those cities sharing a place in the name of this saint, they form an outline of his fascinating and famous life. He was in particular famous to his many adopted children and flock of Orthodox, some of those who had settled in China years before his arrival after fleeing from the Bolsheviks. In 1949 as the Communists John-of-San-Francisco photo smilewere coming to power there he helped 5,000 of these expatriates to emigrate, eventually to the United States. Later still he established the cathedral in San Francisco where his incorrupt relics remain.

On our way there we told what stories we could remember about St. John. One thing he was famous for was ending up barefoot much of the time because he was always coming across someone who was without any footwear; again and again he would take his own off and give them away.

Fr. John was glorified (recognized as a saint by the Orthodox Church) in 1994, and is often called St. John the Wonderworker. It was a joy to visit this place — my third time — with our friends and pray together, some of us asking St. John’s prayers as well.

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We were the only ones in the church for quite a while, but as we were leaving we met some people coming in who were from Romania. The bishop in the group, it turns out, had served the liturgy at the canonization of St. John back in 1994! We were really pleased to meet someone who had such a special connection to the saint, and who was obviously thrilled to be visiting again.

P1110802Afterward we needed some lunch, so we followed the advice of the candle desk attendant at the cathedral and ate at a Russian restaurant called The Red Tavern that was also in that Richmond District neighborhood. We were the only people there, too, though from the name we half expected when we went through the door to see a group of Bolsheviks plotting in the back corner.

A young woP1110798man only recently from Ukraine was our waitress and we enjoyed talking to her and eating the wonderful food. I didn’t think that I liked Russian food much, but everything I tasted was superb: dark brown bread scented with caraway, fresh cabbage salad with golden raisins and tomatoes; thinly sliced fried potatoes; and barley-mushroom soup with a complex and rich flavor. We all shared some Polish poppy seed dessert that we could tell had marzipan in the filling. We cut the two pieces into two more and ate them off these pretty dishes that the waitress said were their “dessert plates.”P1110800The forecast had been for cold and foggy weather in San Francisco today, but the sun was shining on our day and we didn’t even need our sweaters. Also, in our souls, we felt the warmth of Christ and of our friendship.

Malachai 4:2 But for you who fear my name, the Sun of Righteousness shall rise with healing in his wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.

pieces and versions of gingerbread

Mr. Glad and I were taking a walk along the bike path yesterday afternoon when he noticed a sweet aroma in the air. “Gingerbread or something like that,” he guessed. Ah, gingerbread, I thought, that is just the thing for a birthday cake tonight.

Our friend May was going to be at our house for dinner and I had planned a belated birthday celebration; when we got home I began to put this one together. It’s the recipe I’ve used most often for 40+ years, the original idea of “Wheatless Gingerbread” found in Joy of Cooking.

I wrote about my history with that cookbook last year, and my intention to get the latest edition, which I have since done — actually, it was a gift from my husband — partly because it is the 75th Anniversary Edition. This book includes many recipes from previous editions, plus many new and modern ones, and I do like it. So far my only complaint is the sans serif font that it is printed in.Wheatless Gingerbread in Joy

But it doesn’t have this strange recipe that I customized into many incarnations, hoping to make it ever healthier and more to my liking. Always I was trying to make pastries and baked goods less sweet because that way you can also better taste the butter and everything else.

(It just occurred to me that if you make your cakes too sweet you also won’t be able to be as discerning as Bettie Botta of tongue twister fame, who “said this butter’s bitter if I put it in my batter it will make my batter bitter but a bit of better butter will make my bitter batter better.”)

The last version before this had been enough to fill a lasagne pan, because healthy gingerbread is something you can’t have too much of, if you have at least a couple of hungry kids around. But! Now we don’t have any of those – so last night I made yet another improved version, cutting the old quantities in two again. Also, May can’t eat milk products, so I substituted coconut oil for the butter in this one.

The original recipe that called for cornstarch had the most tender and crumbly texture, and even this improved cake does not hold together well (as we found last night!). Especially if it’s children who will be eating it, either have a dog to lap those tasty crumbs off the floor, or take the cake outdoors for a picnic.

Wheatless Gingerbread

1/3 cup coconut oil
1/3 cup dark molasses
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup boiling water
3 extra-large eggs
1 1/2 cups whole rye flour
1 cup brown rice flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons ginger
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon cloves

Put the oil, sugar and molasses in a bowl and pour the boiling water over them. Stir to melt. Beat the eggs in a small bowl. Sift the remaining dry ingredients together. Add the eggs to the liquid ingredients, then stir in the dry ingredients and pour into a greased 10- or 11-cup pan.

Bake in an oven preheated to 325° for 40-45 minutes or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean.

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When it was nearly time to serve the cake I began to tell May about my memory of a birthday cake she had made for me almost 30 years ago, and how when it broke into pieces she used extra ice cream in the seams to reassemble the pieces. This had made an extra yummy cake and no one minded a bit. We laughed about this and other evidence of our similar cooking styles.

May was hovering with her camera over her cake, which made me think to remove it to a plate to make it more photogenic,May gingerbread 14 and what do you know? It broke into three pieces! May thought it a special sign of blessing that the shallow divot off the bottom was in the shape of a heart. So that it would be visible for the photo op, before I set that last piece back into place I sprinkled a little powdered sugar on the rest of the surface.

There were no complaints about our warm and homey, lovey and spicy treat. Happy Birthday, May!

He feeled okay.

This conversation occurred a couple of years ago between a friend and her little boy who is now in Kindergarten; I waited this long share it because I kept forgetting to ask his mom if I might. I’ve posted the whole interview, but if you want to see pictures of him and all his brothers, here is a link to the original post. Her blog is more charming every day, because another baby has been added to the family, bringing the total number of cute blond boys to four and increasing the entertainment value and joy of her postings that were already wonderfully heartwarming.

“Zeke, who did you play with today at your class?” 
“I didn’t play with anybody. I just played all by myself.” 
“The whole time?” 
“Yeah, the whole time. Nobody even played with me.
Them just playing with other people.” 
“Did that make you feel sad, or did you feel okay?” 
“I feeled okay. 
Because God is always with me, 
so even if I play all by myself, 
God is with me, 

so it’s okay.”


Zeke’s mom says that he is still her thankful/dramatic child.

Nina

When the weather is hot, my friend Nina prefers not to be out pruning roses or picking apples, so yesterday, it being 99 degrees, I kid you not, was a good day to visit and find her in the cool house doing a little embroidery. She set it aside while talking to me, though, and curled her slender legs under her where she sat in an easy chair.

I’ve been getting to know her since last winter, but I don’t recall ever seeing her dressed for cold weather. It’s usually some combination of Bermuda shorts and flip-flops, because she does not like being hot. Once when I came by she was just taking a loaf of bread out of the oven. It was intended primarily for her sandwiches, but we discovered that we are alike in our inability to resist freshly baked bread, so we enjoyed a warm slice together.

Before this year, I had rarely spoken to Nina, but I did study her very intently when I would see her in church, not daring to hope that ever in my life I might look so elegant. Maybe the use of a cane actually helped her to walk with the grace and erect carriage of a dancer. Week by week I would see her go up to the altar to pray, as though she were processing up a great hall to be crowned queen, or like a bride on her way down the aisle to be joined to her husband. She always wore a hat and a smile, never hurried, and looked completely serene and at peace. Yesterday she told me that as a young child she was allowed to walk to church by herself, which she loved to do, because being in church to her meant Peace.Nina bd girls w roses

We organized a surprise recognition of her 100th birthday, which fell on a Sunday. Our sisterhood bought 100 roses and toward the end of the service passed them out to as many parishioners to hold. At the very end Nina was ushered up to sit at the front and we all paraded by and gave her a rose and/or a greeting.

What a lot of stories she has to tell from so many years on this earth! Her family was Russian and her father went to China as part of the large crew on the Trans-Manchurian Railway, around the turn of the 20th century. Nina’s family were among the many workers’ families who became permanent residents of Manchuria, but they also were like many of the Russians in that they eventually immigrated to America. Her brother came first, and then Nina all by herself made the journey as a young woman. The stories of that trip to San Francisco, and how she found her brother and met her husband, are the fascinating topics of our chats together.Nina roses HB

A year or more after her 100th birthday Nina switched to a wheelchair for church attendance, but at home she continues without any assistance. She has lived alone for more than 25 years, having been widowed twice.

The second time she had only been married a year when her husband told her that he had had a dream about his late wife in which she asked him to take a walk with her. “Did you go with her?” was Nina’s immediate question. Because Russians have a superstition (she did not use that word) that if you have this dream about someone who has passed from this life, and you agree to walk with them, you will soon join them “on the other side.”

Nina says that her husband would not answer her question, and it wasn’t very long before they were in a car accident together, in which he was instantly killed. For a short time Nina lost her own will to live, but thanks to the mercy of God she realized that she loved her children and wanted to go on living. But in her own house, mind you, where she can do things the way she likes, including her own yard work, cooking, and housecleaning.??????????????????????

When she was about 50 she had some health problems, likely brought on by the pain of her first widowhood, and two of her doctors advised her about her diet. Between them she got the message not to eat dairy products or white flour, and to drink carrot juice. 50+ years ago how many people were drinking carrot juice? Not enough to cause the stores to carry it, so she bought a juicer and has been making her own ever since.

There doesn’t seem to be a fitting way to end this introduction to my friend who is now 102. She is going forward, and going strong, and shows no sign of slowing down. I want to learn from Nina, I want to be more like her. So far my lessons are: smile, drink your carrot juice, and stand up straight.