Preparing and cooking fish, in my childhood memories, was simultaneously ceremonial and ordinary. The sunlight wouldn't have yet reached the kitchen window when my grandfather would place the day's catch - purchased on his dawn walk from the fishmonger's - on the counter. His expert fingers would begin notching the cold, dead grass carp with a knife at certain intervals. Before you could blink, the fillets would be ready, washed, wiped, dry and rubbed in turmeric. The wok oil would simmer gently, and soon the pungency of mustard oil would waft through each room, subtly flavoring each bite of breakfast and stinging the eyes as one emerged from the bath. At 2 PM exactly, all seven of us would gather at the dining table, my grandmother doling out steaming rice and fish cooked in a sauce of mustard seeds, onions, garlic, ginger, tomatoes and other ingredients my palate has never been able to identify. All I know is, it tasted damn good.
All of this to say, I've never mastered my grandparents' technique for cooking fish. The memories continue to taste delicious. The following recipe, then, is just something I whipped this afternoon:
Ingredients
One fillet of cod, cleaned and wiped dry
Panko bread crumbs, about 1/4 c.
Red chili powder, 1/2 tsp.
One clove of garlic, minced
Ginger, chopped, 1 tsp.
Salt + Pepper
One avocado, chopped
1/4 of an onion, sliced
Green onions, about 1/3 c., chopped
1 egg, beaten well
Soy sauce, 1 1/2 tbsp., separated
Cilantro, handful
1. In a shallow bowl, mix the bread crumbs, red chili powder, garlic, ginger and salt+pepper.
2. In another shallow bowl, beat the egg and soy sauce together.
3. Soak both sides of the cod, allowing the egg wash over each side for several seconds at a time.
4. Place the cod into the bread crumbs, pressing down gently on the cod. Make sure bread crumbs cover the cod completely.
5. In a frying pan, allow 2 tablespoons of olive oil to warm over medium-high heat. Once hot, place the cod gently into the oil, and cook on each for side for about 3 minutes.
6. Place the cod on a plate. In the remaining oil, cook any remaining bread crumbs with the sliced onions. Splash the remaining soy sauce into the pan, and stir.
7. Put the chopped avocado into a heap on the fish plate. Empty the contents of the pan onto the avocado. Top off the fish with the spring onions.
8. Eat up - repeat as necessary.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Pilgrim's Progress
Dialectical behavioral therapy was founded by American psychologist Marsha Linehan, who developed the practice while working with sexually assaulted female refugees who showed symptoms of borderline personality disorder. Combining cognitive behavioral therapy and contemplative habits from eastern religious practices, Linehan produced four modules - interpersonal effectiveness, mindfulness, distress tolerance and emotion regulation - which could be completed and learned through a five month-long period.
Linehan also recommended, however, that patients go through the process twice, the first time to become familiar with the skills associated with DBT, and the second time to implement the habits learned. That totals ten months in the program.
Which brings me to my current predicament. I finished DBT last week - yahoo! - and I attach a real sense of pride to this. Having finished one of the elements so crucial to my psychotherapy makes me feel productive, and more optimistic about the future.
But my current coordinator - strangely they changed me from H. to A. without ever consulting/informing me - thinks that after last weekend, I should return to DBT and stay for a second dose of the program. I find it unnecessary - when I first heard the news, it was like being informed I'd taken a course and performed well, but I'd now have to repeat it.
A. was gently adamant about it all, saying she was only trying to be a good coordinator, and the incident proved I needed more time for the material to sink in. I was adamant, though not gently, that I didn't need it. For I've truly benefited from DBT. I find its non-judgmental attitude comforting, and the writing exercises we were assigned for homework a great exploration into what really goes on in a moment of distress. I joined DBT with some great people, all of whom I miss. But the module I entered the group in was distress tolerance, probably the most instructive part of DB therapy, and it taught me different ways to deal with separation anxiety, to act opposite when I felt depressed, and to radically accept certain facts about my life, especially my treatment. For example, for years, I'd walk down the street comparing myself, negatively, to every tall, elegantly dressed woman in heels. Empowered by DBT, I quietly say to myself, paused in the street if need be, "It doesn't matter. Just keep going." If it sounds cliche, it probably is - in my opinion, psychotherapy is a lot of trite phrases and practices cobbled together, in the best possible way, to project a more optimistic glow as a whole.
And I continue to benefit from psychotherapy as a whole. Morning group is doing me genuine wonders. I find myself surprised to read these words, as I was filled with naught but resentment upon first returning to the 10 - 12:30 sessions. But the people in that small, dimly lit room are pure gold. We are all slightly selfish, very self-deprecatory, depressed and anxious, but together we are one hell of a comfort to one another. And I've discovered similarities with my fellow patients that leave me gobsmacked - from tiny things, like E. and I share a psychiatrist (we talk about how helpful he is all the time now), to whole childhoods comprised of similar experiences, like with H. (patient, not coordinator) and C. And if there was ever a gem of a person, it's H. She and I have bonded so quickly, and are even considering living together when we head back to school in the fall. M. remains hilarious as ever, and group coordinator J. is the only doctor at the program unafraid to question our motives, sarcastically call us out and crack jokes.
To paraphrase Virginia Woolf, "The meanest patient, yes, even the very lowest is allowed some say in the matter of her own prescription. Thereby she defines her humanity." It's this theory that guides me to my answer in response to DBT: no, thanks. I'm one of two people who admit to benefiting from DBT in ways which daily affect their lives. Combined with practicing yoga, it leaves one in a peaceful place, free of surmounting psychological obstacles. (It even has me refusing to judge people on the subway! The subway!)
So A. put me on an exit schedule. April 11 is to be my last day in the program, and guys, it will be good. I plan to celebrate. In the meantime, mornings when I eat breakfast, walk to the station in the crisp sunshine alongside the East River, and sit in a room with my peers, trying to mine ourselves for answers, prove to be little victories of their own.
Linehan also recommended, however, that patients go through the process twice, the first time to become familiar with the skills associated with DBT, and the second time to implement the habits learned. That totals ten months in the program.
Which brings me to my current predicament. I finished DBT last week - yahoo! - and I attach a real sense of pride to this. Having finished one of the elements so crucial to my psychotherapy makes me feel productive, and more optimistic about the future.
But my current coordinator - strangely they changed me from H. to A. without ever consulting/informing me - thinks that after last weekend, I should return to DBT and stay for a second dose of the program. I find it unnecessary - when I first heard the news, it was like being informed I'd taken a course and performed well, but I'd now have to repeat it.
A. was gently adamant about it all, saying she was only trying to be a good coordinator, and the incident proved I needed more time for the material to sink in. I was adamant, though not gently, that I didn't need it. For I've truly benefited from DBT. I find its non-judgmental attitude comforting, and the writing exercises we were assigned for homework a great exploration into what really goes on in a moment of distress. I joined DBT with some great people, all of whom I miss. But the module I entered the group in was distress tolerance, probably the most instructive part of DB therapy, and it taught me different ways to deal with separation anxiety, to act opposite when I felt depressed, and to radically accept certain facts about my life, especially my treatment. For example, for years, I'd walk down the street comparing myself, negatively, to every tall, elegantly dressed woman in heels. Empowered by DBT, I quietly say to myself, paused in the street if need be, "It doesn't matter. Just keep going." If it sounds cliche, it probably is - in my opinion, psychotherapy is a lot of trite phrases and practices cobbled together, in the best possible way, to project a more optimistic glow as a whole.
And I continue to benefit from psychotherapy as a whole. Morning group is doing me genuine wonders. I find myself surprised to read these words, as I was filled with naught but resentment upon first returning to the 10 - 12:30 sessions. But the people in that small, dimly lit room are pure gold. We are all slightly selfish, very self-deprecatory, depressed and anxious, but together we are one hell of a comfort to one another. And I've discovered similarities with my fellow patients that leave me gobsmacked - from tiny things, like E. and I share a psychiatrist (we talk about how helpful he is all the time now), to whole childhoods comprised of similar experiences, like with H. (patient, not coordinator) and C. And if there was ever a gem of a person, it's H. She and I have bonded so quickly, and are even considering living together when we head back to school in the fall. M. remains hilarious as ever, and group coordinator J. is the only doctor at the program unafraid to question our motives, sarcastically call us out and crack jokes.
To paraphrase Virginia Woolf, "The meanest patient, yes, even the very lowest is allowed some say in the matter of her own prescription. Thereby she defines her humanity." It's this theory that guides me to my answer in response to DBT: no, thanks. I'm one of two people who admit to benefiting from DBT in ways which daily affect their lives. Combined with practicing yoga, it leaves one in a peaceful place, free of surmounting psychological obstacles. (It even has me refusing to judge people on the subway! The subway!)
So A. put me on an exit schedule. April 11 is to be my last day in the program, and guys, it will be good. I plan to celebrate. In the meantime, mornings when I eat breakfast, walk to the station in the crisp sunshine alongside the East River, and sit in a room with my peers, trying to mine ourselves for answers, prove to be little victories of their own.
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