It's All Greek to Me

Around the corner from my office in DC there's a tiny storefront restaurant called, quite simply, "Greek Deli". It would be easy to miss, were it not for the long serpentine queue stretching all the way to the pavement, then turning 90-degrees and continuing on for a good distance more. Unsuspecting pedestrians are often corralled by the hungry ranks, eyeing the potential interlopers with suspicion as they push through towards their intended destination. You might think foul weather would dampen the resolve of the masses, and sometimes it does. But there are days when the promise of a carton of lush avgolemano soup is the only thing that gets you through the dull, grey drudgery of life in the city. And so you wait.

You take the full hour for lunch, and you spend most of that hour outside in the drizzle, the collar of your wool-coat hiked up and itching your neck because you left your scarf at home again. By the time you make it to the door, your coat smells, and you hate every person ahead of you. You stare at them through the stenciled door, they're smug and cozy, and also idiots. You didn't think this was possible, but you actually hate them more as they bumble through their orders.

And then, the door opens. A rush of warm air, saturated in olive oil hits you, and suddenly the last 40-minutes spent shivering in the cold are forgotten. The space is packed tight to the counter with customers. Behind the glass stands Kostas Fostieris. He looks like the captain of an old dory, with his fisherman's cap, leathery skin, and a beard as full as his belly. You watch him age through the pictures and news-clips crowding the walls. You're shocked by how little has changed. Aside from the color of his beard and the style of the suits, the scene around you perfectly mirrors the ones on display. Does he notice it too? Finally, it's your turn. But you were distracted by the photos and the baklava. "MEEEEEESSSS! MEEEEESS?" barks Kostas, and you realize that you haven't decided what to order. Now you're the one staring into the case of steaming lamb and salmon and brisket and spanakopita and moussaka and orzo and white beans and green beens like a tongue-tied nincompoop. The woman behind you sighs heavily, and someone from the back of the shop hisses "you've gotta be kidding."  Suddenly you're very warm, you blurt out a list of six different items. Because overcompensation? Azzad is at the the register, more relaxed than his employer, he sneaks you a wink and a smile along with your giant white sack of food.

By the time you make it back out into the rain you're late for work. You take the shortcut through the alley, and a driver blares his horn at you for blocking his way. That girl across the hall gives you the stink eye as you slink into your office, and you can't really blame her. The conference call you were supposed to be on has already started and you hope no one notices the 'bloop' announcing your arrival. They say something about slide five, you mute your line. You, are very, very hungry. You rip open the sack, it's oil-stained now and making an even bigger mess of your desk. You start to ask yourself why you keep going there anyway, but the first bite of warm bread shuts you up before you can finish the thought.

The below is my rendition of one of my very favorite dishes from the Greek Deli. I've added kale to make the dish a bit more substantial, and would not be against throwing a fried egg on top for good measure. Serve with crusty bread.

Rustic Gigantes Beans with Kale

---

3/4 lb. dried large white beans

1/2 c olive oil

1/2 large sweet onion, diced

4 cloves garlic, diced

1/2 c white wine

2 t fresh dill

1 16 oz can good Italian tomatoes, whole

2 c kale, chopped

2 oz Greek feta

Cook beans in salted water according to your preference until just shy of done. For me, this means a "power soak," followed by about 20 min. in the pressure cooker.

While beans are cooking, prepare tomato sauce. Pour tomatoes (including their juices) into a large bowl, and squish to break up into a nearly uniform consistency. Heat 1/4 c olive oil in a large sauté pan, cook onion until translucent, add garlic and cook 2 more minutes. Add wine and tomatoes, fill can half full with water to rinse out any additional juice and add that as well. Cook over high heat until reduced by almost half (you can always add water if it gets too concentrated, sauce should still be a bit soupy). Add beans, kale and dill, and season to taste, then stew until beans are tender. Stir in additional 1/4 c olive oil, and top with crumbled feta.

Where great men live

I'm writing this post from a -- surprisingly pleasant -- random roadside hotel in West Virginia drowning my tears in prosecco (and Premal's sweet, soothing company). CLEARLY, I am in no position to write about my departure from my beloved capitol city just yet. So instead I offer pictures from our recent jaunt to Charlottesville, Va, and Thomas Jefferson's Monticello. One of the items on my farewell bucket list was the home of our nation's third president. I'd heard tales of the idyllic mansion Jefferson designed. Tucked away in the Virginia hills with glorious gardens, quirky details, and peacocks roam free on the grounds. Jefferson's home seemed like a fitting place to spend my fatherless father's day (/anniversary). In many ways this tinkering statesman is a perfect blend of my inventor father and my politician grandfather. And as we meandered through another man's life I took special notice of the details they would have loved, and the conversations we might have had (hyper-efficient use of space, and life/philosophy contradictions come to mind). These days, I am frankly shocked by how often I long for conversations with the first great men in my life. I wish I could ask them about Syria and Snowden, and my new car and big move, and the modern folk music movement. Mostly, I wish they knew Premal. But we will never have those conversations, and I will never get to see my joy reflected in their eyes. So instead I will be content to wander one great man's house, with another great man on my arm, and two more tucked safely away in my mind.    

^^^Thomas Jefferson knew a thing or two about classy gardening^^^

^^^patriotic flower beds may just be the key to my heart^^^

^^^the biggest, most beautifulest, lettuce head I have ever laid eyes on^^^

^^^down the rabbit hole^^^

^^^an older couple asked if we were on our honeymoon, I think that means we're doing this right^^^ 

Outtakes

 Last month we expended herculean efforts while wrangling the troupes to take a family picture. With 23 bodies to organize - and at least as many schedules - finding a time and place to gather was darn near impossible (please see the gory 75-long gmail message thread for evidence). In the end, everyone was able to make it except for Dave (who was whisked away on a last minute assignment in NYC), and little Thomas (who was needed at the opening of his preschool art installation). And in my humble opinion, the heartaches and headaches were totally worthwhile. We'll wait until Christmas to subject everyone to the finished product, but - until then - here are some of my favorite outtakes from the afternoon. 
Huge props, hugs, and kisses to Tom who was coerced into taking the pictures after we were unable
to secure a professional photographer for the golden 45 minute window of opportunity. (Apparently 

this studly rocket scientist is also capable of corralling 21 of the most opinionated people I've ever 
had the pleasure of knowing). Huzzah!     

Old favorites

As the weather warms, Premal and I have resumed our habit of walking together. We'll return from our offices just as the sun starts to look a bit lazy in the early evening sky and set off for nowhere in particular. We take these treks often, so often that the scenery holds few surprises. Still, tired surprises soon become old favorites. Favorite doors, and yards, and roofs. We watch familiar gardens grow and flourish, and die and wait. Now they're back at it. Same as ever. Ever lovely, ever there. But now we are leaving, and this little neighborhood will continue its cycle without us. And I realize that even neighborhoods don't really stay the same. You see, we're headed back to another place where I once took frequent walks to nowhere in particular. We're going home. But there, things have changed. Friends have left, and angular condos now fill holes where once familiar fields and houses stood. It's fine, and certainly "good for the neighborhood," but it's very different. So, in these last four weeks that we have here in this city that has treated me so very well for the past ten years, I'm looking around at these old favorites extra hard. Filing away their magic and the comfort they bring me. Because who knows, perhaps we'll be back someday, years and years from now. We will  change, and likely the neighborhood will too. Hopefully for the best, but surely it will be very, very  different.

Sweeeeeeet

We had a truly glorious, extra-long Easter weekend. I'm still recovering from all the merriment. Momo and Zen flew in for a surprise visit Friday night. Saturday, we picnicked at the cherry blossom festival with our extended Lantos family in the shadow of a thousand kites. Sunday, we enjoyed church even more than usual, since both Charity and Hettie sang, and that afternoon we trekked to my cousin's lovely new home in Virginia for good food, great company and an epic egg hunt worthy of Grecian myth.

You'd think, come Monday morning, we'd be partied out. 

Nay, my friends. Never. 

Uncle Levi delivered the pièce de résistance: an afternoon at the White House Easter Egg Roll.

It takes a particular sort of good man to escape from a busy job for hula hooping 

and egg dying (in a khaki suit!) with someone else's kids. 

What can I say? My kids are awfully lucky in the Uncle Department.

Capital bound on a budget? Ask 5.

Q: On Saturday, I board the Empire Builder in Seattle and, for 46 hours, get to bumble about on a train until I reach Washington D.C. on Tuesday. I have six days (and a limited budget) to saturate myself with this village. Any suggestions on what to do with a day? I don't plan on eating out (lentils, onions, and rice for dayz), but if I were to, are there any places that would be worth throwing dollars at (or nicely handing the dollars to the folks)? Favourite tree?

As:

Democracy, freedom, and justice don't just happen: we must strive for them through action.*

A few weeks ago, our clan descended on the Capitol for the presentation of the Lantos Human Rights Prize. It's a really lovely occasion where we remember our incredible grandfather by honoring others who dedicate their lives to the things he believed in. (Human rights is such a wonderful cause, we thought it made more sense to celebrate that than to give people a medal for loving fluffy white puppies... But that would also have been a fitting tribute).

I had planned to leave Hettie with the babysitter, but Momo called to let me know that this year's honoree, Chinese activist Chen Guangcheng, was bringing along his two young children, and she thought Hettie might like to meet them. I'm so glad she came. She was a charming little hostess to Kerui and Kesi, and behaved so well during the lengthy speeches. Afterwards, she reflected, "We're lucky to live in America, because it's my favorite place, and Daddy gets to be a lawyer AND wear shoes." A week or two later, when we were wandering through the Ai Weiwei exhibit at the Hirshhorn, she said "This reminds me of the blind man who taught us to help everyone, even when it's hard." I couldn't have summed up the morning more succinctly myself. I think Didi would be proud.

I will always treasure these brief months when the three of us live within a few blocks of each other!! Didi surely smiled down on us as we carpooled for the five minute drive up East Capitol Street -- especially because we had a man at the wheel! (Thanks, Yoni!)

Left to right: Richard Gere; Mimo; Momo; Congressman Jim McGovern; Congressman Chris Smith; Auntie Katrina; Chen Guangcheng; Yuan Weijing; a lovely translator lady; our big brother, Tomicah; Senator Kelly Ayotte

Hugs for everyone!!

Momo showing off her priorities after the ceremony: Forget the foxy movie star and the senator! Hettie NEEDS her!!

*From Chen Guangcheng's speech

According to What?

Last week I ignored about a hundred things I really needed to do, and trundled the kiddies of to the Hirshhorn Museum to catch the Ai Weiwei exhibit before it closed. I'm so glad we did.

Ai Weiwei fills such an interesting space. He collaborated to design the famous(ly expensive) Bird's Nest stadium for the Beijing Olympics, and was heavily courted by the local government in Shanghai before deciding to build his studio in their blossoming arts district. But then officials razed his new studio and threw the artist into prison.  Ai Weiwei was unable to attend this landmark retrospective, because they still haven't returned his passport.

Thousands of porcelain river crabs in a not-at-all thinly veiled protest of Chinese government censorship

Hettie was obsessed with this giant representation of the Chinese Zodiac -- for some reason she thought they were made out of chocolate, not bronze....

This marble construction helmet was Phinny's favorite -- maybe because he's grown up around so much home renovation!

Of his work, the artist has said, "I make the useful become not useful." These days, I feel that's a pretty spot-on commentary on my own life. Sometimes I look around at the chaos that all-too-often encompasses my little world, and am tempted to sink into despair. 

Some days, I would give almost anything for five peaceful minutes in a comfortable chair.

His art also put those thoughts pretty powerfully into perspective. 

This piece is made of rebar salvaged from collapsed schools in the wake of the Sichuan earthquake.

These giant rice bowls really touched me. Mundane simplicity, overflowing with beauty and abundance.

I'm trying to be a little more aware of the pearls littering my own quotidian life.
It's lovely.

A Day in the Sun

Premal and I sneaked away to Florida for a quick 24 hours over the weekend. Rohan, my brother in-law, is in his first year of medical school near Tampa, and we wanted to be there to cheer him on at his white coat ceremony (the allure of a brief escape from the frigid north we call home had nothing to do with our decision).

The trip was short, but we packed it to capacity. There was the ceremony, a trip to the beach and an art fair, walks around Tampa and Sarasota, we caught some live music, watched the sunset (and rise) over the ocean, and of course, a lot of great food. Oh! I almost forgot that we even managed to squeeze in a couple of overs at a pick-up cricket match. Dreamy.

In fact it was so dreamy that I was hit by a sfit of inspiration during my time in the sun. And so, I give you, my

TOP 5 Vitamin D Binge Induced 

(perhaps obvious, but seemed groundbreaking at the moment) 

Revelations:

1) Cricket is my kind of sport—Premal looks preeeeeeeetty fine when he bowls, and they have tea breaks, and Americans think I'm fancy when I know stuff about the sport. WIN.

2) All of the stereotypes regarding retirees in Florida are 100% true. Never before have I seen so many saucy septuagenarians

3) My brother in-law has never had a sister, so I get to spend all my time with him making up for his 23-years of sad sisterless-ness. So much unsolicited advice regarding fashion/girls, so little time!

4) Trips to warmer climates in the dead of winter are amazing.

5) 24-hours is totally enough time for a micro-vacation, so if you're hankering for one, just go for it!