I was told that making almond milk is easy, but in truth, I found the process a bit confusing from the “recipes” I read online. So I am writing up my own recipe in the hopes that it will clarify details on how to make almond milk.
Why Make Almond Milk
Best reason: it tastes yummy. It is richer and creamier than what I have purchased in stores. I think I really made almond cream, to tell the truth. Other reasons might be: you want to learn how to make a non-dairy (pareve) creamer from scratch or you like the idea of making a healthy drink. I made it because I usually have oat milk with my coffee, and on Pesach oat milk is chametz (sort of like bread, which we don’t eat on Passover). Almond milk is not, but our family only uses products that are certified kosher for Passover, and the almond milk I bought last year was so, so, so bad I had to throw it out. If you look at the ingredients on purchased almond milk, you will find ingredients other than almonds and water. This recipe is just: almonds and water!
Almond Milk Ingredients and Equipment
1/2 cup almonds
water to soak almonds; different water for almond milk
Food processor or other means of crushing the almonds
Cheese cloth bag or cheese cloth on top of a cup – I bought a soup bag at Glatt 27 in Highland Park, New Jersey (they are hanging near the register)
Almond Milk – How To
Soak the almonds overnight (8-12 hours) in water. In the morning, discard the soaking water. Crush the almonds until fine in the food processor. Place crushed almonds in a cheese cloth bag. Add water: the more water you add, the more milk you get, but it will thin the milk. I added about 1/2 cup of water and so I obtained almond cream. Squeeze the bag into a cup to retrieve the milk.
You will then have a bag of crushed nuts, so find a recipe that calls for crushed nuts. We made cookies with our crushed almonds, and that made my daughter and husband happy.
I apologize – almond milk with coffee tastes so yummy I drank most of it before taking the photograph
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On a separate note, I have recently set up a subscription by email for the Sketching Out blog. There is also a link on the right sidebar. This was in response to the upcoming “death” of Google Reader – I may write more on that topic in an upcoming post. Thank you to any of you who choose to subscribe.
Val Weidmann wrote this poem about five years ago in memory of her father, Murray Abraham Drach, and the poem was published in the Fall 2012 Paterson Literary Review. She shared the poem with me a few weeks ago, and I asked her if I could publish it on my blog (she said yes).
It would be a fitting poem to publish around the time of Rosh Hashana, as that is when we read the passages about the sacrifice of Isaac. You can learn more on the relationship of Rosh Hashana to the Akeida (binding of Isaac) in my post on the poem Oked V’hanekad. When I read the title and first line of Val’s poem, I said to Val, many people have problems with the sacrifice story. Who would sacrifice one’s own son? Since we brought up the topic, here’s one response by Rabbi Louis Jacobs. Personally, I like the response that the Akeida is an admonition against child sacrifice.
What image to post with Val’s poem? I did not choose a dark, chiaroscuro Renaissance or Baroque painting of sacrifice. Instead, I chose a cheery ice cream painting I did several years back that I posted near the holiday Shavuot when it is customary to have dairy. Later in the poem, you will find the ice cream reference. Nothing to do with Shavuot.
Finally, tonsillectomy facts: In the United States, the number of tonsillectomies has actually declined significantly and progressively since the 1970s.
Enough of the commentary: here is the poem.
The Sacrifice of Abraham by Valeri Drach Weidmann
My father never liked this particular Bible story.
It came early in the book,
Not long after the covenant, a tricky clause.
Abraham had already sacrificed so much.
but he had gained everything – the son.
My father couldn’t imagine a father marching a child up a hill.
A questioning child,
“Where’s the sacrifice dad?”
There was no calf or lamb in sight,
only a father brandishing a knife.
I am reminded of another story, when my parents took me to the hospital.
I too had many questions traveling up the hills of the Bronx in a taxi.
Where are we going?
We’re going to see Uncle Sid the butcher.
My mother didn’t want to alarm me.
In the 1950’s you didn’t tell a kid much.
So there we were in the hospital, the sharp
smell of ammonia, a knife to the nose.
Uncle Sid was no where to be found.
And it was me they were strapping down,
There was no T-bone or lamb chop in sight.
The mask that pumped sweet, smothering ether,
The missing tonsils,
The toys, the ice cream,
The five days in the hospital.
I personally didn’t see any blood.
Not my own or anyone else’s.
My father was so relieved the surgery went well,
he filled the hospital room with gifts
And went out to get one more,
A phonograph in a hat box,
With a needle, with a burning metal smell,
whenever it touched the vinyl record.
My Father and the shop owner argued and fought.
They fell through a plate glass window.
He and the owner miraculously sailed
through a shower of shards unharmed,
Another sacrifice averted.
A father’s love once again rewarded.
My father’s middle name was Abraham,
But he never would have sacrificed me.
* * *
I will leave you with one question: what do the Biblical story of the sacrifice and Val’s experience of tonsil surgery have in common?
Spring has finally arrived in the form of striped purple crocuses. One of the names of the upcoming holiday of Pesach (also known as Passover) is Ḥag HaAviv or Holiday of Spring. An advantage of Passover coming early this year is the by the time the magnolias and dogwoods are in bloom, our Passover cleaning/cooking will be done, and we will better be able to enjoy the spring buds. Next year there will be an extra month of Adar so Passover will be later in the spring. If we didn’t have that extra month of Adar, we might be celebrating Pesach in the winter.
In renaming this blog, I had some ideas of settling into a particular niche. I’ve read oh how a proper blog should have a niche and stick with it. Well, I fear that may not come to be, as I have all sorts of ideas for this blog, and rarely are they consistently of one sort or another. A friend today gave me a poem she had written several years ago. It is somewhat biographical, and it also alludes some of the difficulties of the Sacrifice of Isaac. So stay tuned for that one. I have in mind to write a review of Ester and Ruzya, a wonderful book. Some ideas for interviews of other bloggers have come into my head on a particular topic – we will see if I follow through with that one. And once I get back to my art group, I suspect that art exercises and sketches will again be topics for blog discussions.
What can one say about a striped purple crocus? It’s symbolism seems to be universal, as it often pushes out of the ground before other flowers do (my neighbor’s snow drops appeared a while back, however). The word crocus is Greek, and it may have its roots in the Hebrew כרכום karkōm. I am guessing that this is a Crocus vernus.
Happy Pesach to those who celebrate. Happy Easter to those who celebrate that holiday. And happy spring of crocuses, forsythia, tulips and daffodils and whatever grows in your part of the world to all.
Mural at the train station in Edison, New Jersey
We were picking up a friend last week, and I spotted this mural of a river. I call it the Edison Train Station Mural. I am guessing the river depicted is the Raritan River. See what happens when you bring your camera on small local trips? I never noticed the mural before. I decided to do a quick Google search, and guess what? The mural is by Katherine Hackl of Katherine Hackl Pottery & Tiles.
Ilana-Davita has a weekly review, and in the weekly review she links to the recent JOFA journal. I open the journal (a pdf), and what do I find but a nice article about Eva Oles, z”l, of Highland Park who passed away earlier this year (I didn’t even know she had died until I was sitting shiva for my father – I was a little distracted). It is written by Roselyn Bell, whom I know as Rosie. Thank you, Rosie, for the sweet words.
We have gotten little snow this past winter – lots of threats and warnings, but no school has been cancelled due to snowstorms. I love photographing snow scenes, but New Jersey only gives me infrequent opportunities. I grew up in the Boston area, and they got much more snow this past winter. Anyone remember the blizzard of 1978?
The cardinals were content to visit our backyard once again and enjoy the bird feeder and branches.
This shot of the female cardinal shows a lot of her red – unlike her male partner, she is mostly brown, but when you get closer, you can see the pretty bits of red. I think it’s quite lovely.
One can see the reds of female cardinal here – love those streaks of red amongst the brown.
The male Northern Cardinal is perhaps responsible for getting more people to open up a field guide than any other bird. They’re a perfect combination of familiarity, conspicuousness, and style: a shade of red you can’t take your eyes off. Even the brown females sport a sharp crest and warm red accents. Cardinals don’t migrate and they don’t molt into a dull plumage, so they’re still breathtaking in winter’s snowy backyards. In summer, their sweet whistles are one of the first sounds of the morning.
I do find my cardinals tend to visit in the cold. I don’t see them in the summer.
