there were certain characteristics that were unique to India. Because India was a predominantly Hindu country with a strong respect for life, many people followed the Hindu practice of strict vegetarianism. My newlywed mother quickly incorporated the Indian gastronomy, learning and cooking even more vegetarian dishes, which were prepared with cardamom, cinnamon, cumin, ginger, and mustard seed, to name just a few of the spices in her cabinet.
It was common for Jewish families like mine, with roots on the Silk Road, to trade as merchants. From their headquarters in Kabul, my family operated a diverse business that included the colorful world of gemstones, fabrics, and garments, as well as commodities such as car parts and tires. The business involved intercontinental transactions, so it was necessary to establish offices around the globe. My uncles opened satellite offices in Tokyo, Kobe, Hong Kong, Bombay, Bangkok, Milan, Valencia, Tel Aviv, and Chiasso and Lugano, in Switzerland. At the same time my parents headed for New York, and often traveled to the various world capitals.
MY OWN CULINARY TALE
Because of my father’s work and my family’s frequent travels, my parents absorbed the cultures, languages, tastes, and cuisines of all the places they lived in. They often entertained my father’s business associates, and my mother’s role as matriarch was to host and cook meals that made our guests feel at home. Our live-in helpers also came from diverse cultures and contributed their own favorites to our table. All these experiences influenced our cultural repertoire and expanded our culinary curiosity. The food I grew up with was an intermarriage of exotic tastes from Asian, African, European, Indian, and even some Latin dishes that formed a harmonious and tasty bliss. We were all always learning and sharing our cultures through cuisine.
What was unusual and wonderful about my mother’s cooking was that she was inspired by every culture she encountered and she instinctively knew how to integrate her native mix of Persian, Central Asian, and Indian food into any new cuisine she was learning about. Even before culinary adventurism became popular, she courageously tasted any and every ethnic cuisine she could try, and eventually incorporated them into her own delicious signature dishes.
And so I grew up, a typical New York kid in some ways, and in others a citizen of the world—at least at the table. As an adult, however, I did not follow my mother’s example at first. In traveling frequently and leading the lifestyle of a single New Yorker—with little time for home cooking or eating well—I gradually grew chronically ill, debilitated from a painful ulcer. While in New York, my typical diet was a doughnut in the morning, followed by pizza or a sandwich for lunch, and pasta for dinner. When I look back at those years, I’m astonished that I settled for eating so poorly. Back then, my goal was “eat to live,” and to do so as quickly as possible. Notice that I was not eating “live” foods, but processed quick-and-easy meals designed just to fill me up.
I went to see a conventional gastroenterologist who feebly attempted to correct my diet, suggesting bland foods like dairy and toast, and discouraging spicy foods. He then sent me off with a handful of medications. He did not ask me what my diet was like or what my heritage was; nor did he bother to investigate whether I had any food sensitivities. After months of following the regimen, I was not feeling any better and I decided to consult a holistic nutritionist. The nutritionist urged me to eliminate all wheat, dairy, and sugar from my diet. Ironically, wheat and dairy are precisely what the gastroenterologist had told me to eat! He also told me that I could eat spicy foods because I had grown up on them—that I should eat in harmony with my ancestral cuisine.
My first thought was, “What am I going to eat if I can’t eat wheat, dairy, and sugar?” And yet my body was taxed from years of over-consumption of processed foods. These three ingredients—wheat, dairy, and sugar—were wreaking havoc on my immune system. I plumbed my memories of my mother’s table and found answers in my ancestral cuisine.
Reacquainting myself with the diet of my childhood, which consisted largely of rice, vegetables, fruits, and beans, I discovered that the transformation wasn’t as difficult as I’d anticipated—especially because I felt so much better! My palate sobered up after many years of being “drugged.” I soon began detecting the artificial chemical flavors in processed foods that I’d never noticed before. Another added benefit was that, without the heavy carbohydrates and sugar fogging up my mind, my thinking became sharper. And I found that cooking engaged my spirit. Making healthy choices in the foods I ate was truly liberating.
Inspired to learn more about the link between food and wellness, I studied natural health and subsequently opened my own practice as a naturopath in 1994. In the ensuing years, I helped patients with chronic health issues—many related to food sensitivities. As a frequent guest on the Gary Null Radio Show, I addressed the concerns of listeners struggling with the same problems I once faced.
MY CULINARY CONVERSION
I’d been veering toward vegetarianism shortly after my second marriage to my South African husband. Mervin was already accustomed to healthy eating, purchasing food from the local food co-op and preparing homemade South African vegetarian meals. South Africa is a melting pot of cuisines, thanks to several waves of massive immigration, particularly Indian. Gastronomically speaking, we create an interesting Central Asian-African blend.
The turning point in our commitment to meat abstinence was shortly after we adopted Flynn, a sweet-natured cocker spaniel with an uncannily human face and a sweet, honest spirit. Abused by previous owners who cruelly dumped him onto the streets of Manhattan, Flynn was terribly skittish. He needed my full attention and pampering to recover from his ordeal.
On one particular Sabbath, my son, husband, and I, with Flynn by our side, sat at the table. Mervin recited the blessing over the wine and bread. That night I served garlic-rosemary roasted chicken. As I gazed at the headless chicken on my table, I looked over at Flynn’s gentle face, and I was struck by an epiphany. I realized that his presence in my life had altered my way of thinking. I questioned whether I could live with and love this needy animal while remaining a meat-eater. My conscience stung. Why was it okay to kill even one animal when we are all part of nature?
Thinking back, it’s no wonder that this thought struck me while we were sitting together over a sacred Sabbath meal, which is carefully chosen and prepared to remind us that we are not alone in the world, but are part of a collective wave of conscious thought on how we sow, how we harvest, how we slaughter, and how we eat. My relationship with Flynn taught me that vegetarianism is life-affirming; a vegetarian lifestyle expresses gratitude for our animal kingdom, rather than entitlement and ownership.
As my commitment to healthy and ethical eating grew, it was a natural progression to begin to purchase my foods from a local source. I decided to start a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) program in my neighborhood. Golden Earthworm Farm became my partner, with some 40 like-minded households. The community connects through the rituals of harvesting, cooking, and sharing. We thrive on the joy of cooking whole foods and breaking bread together.
As time went on, I noticed that, as enthusiastic as they were, many of the CSA members had no idea what to do with some of the produce in their boxes. I was only too happy to share recipes, which culminated in my compiling a seasonal cookbook. Silk Road Vegetarian is an outgrowth of that first volume.
LOCAL AND SEASONAL EATING
It’s amazing to think that less than fifty years ago, almost all fruits and vegetables throughout the world were locally produced. That meant that people in tropical climates would have eaten tropical fruit in the fall, and people in northern climates would have eaten fruits like apples and pears. Today, most fruits in the supermarket are picked long before they are ripe, and sit in a truck or depot ripening for weeks before they get to us. But there’s a cost to this method, and it’s paid in quality. Foods that need to be shipped long distances are genetically bred to look presentable even when they’re old, rather than bred for taste or nutrition. The longer the
