ginger karma

Besides figs, I am crazy about ginger. This branched, lumpy beige spice has always has an attraction to me. I have grown it, dried, pickled, marinated, saute'd and fried it. I like it crushed, diced, sugared, preserved and in Chinese liqueur. My first memories of ginger are my mom's teriyaki chicken. She used to make it when we lived on the SAC base in North Dakota. Military wives are often ahead of culinary trends, as they travel so much and exchange recipes. I think she got this from Mrs. Kim, a German war bride married to a Hawaiian Korean American. typical descriptor of base housing. Anyway, she would slice the ginger, bash it with the back of her knife and make a sweet soy sauce and sugar marinade with oil , green onions, and minced bits of yellow ginger in it. I loved the chicken, it was exotic for 1962. But, I craved the ginger and would fish it out of the marinade and eat it, my fingers dripping with oil and soy. In recent years I have used ginger in many dishes, it lifts the recipe above the mundane, the crisp bright notes liven the worst wilted-bottom-of-the-fridge veg drawer stir fry when desperate. I have tried to sprout ginger, finding a sweet new bunch in the market, scraping its thin beige skin to show the younger pink ginger underneath. I cut it, and planted it in sand to sprout. Sometimes I am successful. Sometimes not, and the moral I keep learning over and over is not to fuss, not to worry, and for heaven's sake let it be. Gee, if I had learned that lesson in many aspects of my life I would also be elevated and lifted. So, I continue to learn my ginger lesson. When pickled with shiso leaves, the ginger turns a carnation pink and is perfect with sushi. Paired with light green wasabi, it masquerades as a spring combo, cherry blossoms and green leaves. But that pack in the mouth punch of ginger and wasabi knocks your sinuses open, and the the top of your head off if you have been over eager with the two. Again, a ginger lesson: not too much, and don't be a show off. I also like it candied, especially the large slabs which have been steeped in a sugar syrup, lightly candied and then are covered in large sugar crystals. You are supposed to dice them up for cakes and confections, I just eat the whole slice. I like the peppery burn aftertaste, the crunchy sandpaper extreme of the sugar and the fibrous bits of ginger as I chew. Extreme, hidden in sugar, a lion under the candy. Me? Am I a lion hiding in sugar? Have I hidden my favorite part of myself under a marinade, only waiting for someone else to fish out my bits? Something to think about. And then, there is more to my ginger lesson, the chewy Indonesian candy, dusted in cornstarch, and individually wrapped in wax paper. And, the Altoids ginger mouth mints. I crave both, can eat three chews by the time I get to my car en route to work in the morning. I always travel with them for upset traveler's stomach. Ginger is my pal. The altoids are eccentric, dime size disks which pack that familiar almost endorphin-inducing punch of pain and flavor. Few people like them, the contrast with heat and sugar is not for the faint of heart. Except in matters IN the heart, when I was breaking, I am not faint OF heart and happily crunch these when lesser women eat mints. Too dainty. Yep, I am a ginger snob. I break the branches with abandon, checking the insides before I buy them. I save them in sherry when costs are high, but ginger is now cheap enough to buy often. Two years, my dear mother in law bought Chinese ginger liqueur when it was imported. Fabulous, alcohol, syrup and ginger all in one...heaven. It is hard, if not impossible to find this liqueur now, but I can taste its syrup and warming effects still. Who will find that liqueur for me now? She is gone and I miss her dearly, that she noticed I loved ginger. Not the least of my pantheon is ginger ale, perfect in drinks and punches, and guzzled when ill. Last year I went through gallons of ginger ale for upset stomachs which were nightly. It was my wake-up juice, my hangover remedy, and general hydration. I haven't had it for a few weeks now on a diet, and just writing about this makes me want to figure out how to make a concoction of ginger tea just to warm myself. So, ginger has been a companion, a snobby friend of spices, a kick in the head karma of over-indulgence, a constant flavor throughout my life. And, those IN my life, past and future must get used to its presence in my food, and sensibility. Heat and passion, syrup and pain, hidden extremes of nature, a great metaphor for my being.