Grilled Fava Beans

1. Oil 'em, salt 'em, season 'em, grill 'em, pop 'em out, eat 'em.

Israeli CousCous

This recipe is adapted from the recipe on the back of Trader Joe's Isreali CousCous box. I've made it with corn and sweet potatoes- just about any veggie combo will do. Try using some curry powder for an interesting twist, or substitute dried cranberries for the raisins.

2 T. oil
8 oz. Israeli couscous (large grain, or "pearl" couscous)
1 small yellow onion, sliced

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 carrot, thinly sliced into rounds

1 zuccini, quartered

1/2 cup pine nuts

1/4 cup golden raisins

2 t. fresh lemon juice

1 veggie boullion cube in 1-3/4 cups boiling water

1 fresh or dried sage leaf

1 fresh or dried bay leaf

tumeric, cinnamon, salt, pepper

1. Rub the zuccini with olive oil, sea salt, and any spices you'd like on there. Grill or broil until the zuccini begins to char in spots. When cool enough, slice into bite-sized pieces.

2. Heat a dash of oil in a small pan and add pinenuts, swirling until slightly browned.

3. Put about 2 T. oil in a saucepan and sautee the onion until it begins to soften and brown, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and sautee a minute more. Add the carrots, bay leaf, and couscous and give everything a few swirls with a spoon until the couscous begins to turn toasty.

4. Add the veggie broth, lemon juice, about 4 dashes of tumeric, 2 dashes cinnamon, and a dash of salt (optional). Bring to a boil, then turn down heat and simmer until all the water is absorbed. This takes just a few minutes. Stir in pinenuts and raisins.

5. Spoon onto a plate and top with zuccini, crumbled sage, and fresh black pepper.

Summer Salad with Creamy Red Wine Viniagarette

For the salad:

Chop up whatever kinds of greens you have, such as lettuce, endive, mustard greens, etc. Herbs such as cilantro, basil, mint etc are great too. Add thinly sliced radishes and carrots, and whatever other veggies you're inspired to throw in. I also added frozen roasted corn and sliced black olives.

For the dressing:

Whisk together 3 T. mayo, 2 T. olive oil, 3 t. honey, 3 T. red wine vinegar, 1/4 t. onion powder, 1/4 t. garlic powder and salt & fresh black pepper to taste. If it's too vinegary, add some more olive oil or mayo. Crumble in one dried or fresh sage leaf.

Pile greens on a plate, and serve with dressing and a halved hard-boiled egg sprinkled with salt and pepper.

**For perfect boiled eggs, put eggs in a saucepan so the water completely covers the eggs by about an inch. Put the pan over heat and bring to a boil. Right when the water boils, turn off heat, and cover the pan with a tightly fitting lid. Let the eggs sit for 8 minutes, drain and cover with cold water. Peel right away.

The Battle of the Bus

We arrived in NY three minutes before my bus was scheduled to leave. I ran to the terminal and bolted past the line of people waiting. "Is that the bus to Boston?" I asked the man loading bags into the luggage compartment. "Yeh," he nodded. "Can I get on?" "You gotta wait in the line." As I stood in this line, I realized that many of my fellow passengers had tickets for a 4:00 bus. Mine was a 3:30. I watched, regretfully, as the 3:30 pulled out of the terminal. As I got some life safers from the vending machine for lunch, I rehearsed what I would say when I reached the ticket-taker. I was infuriated that they'd filled my bus first-come first-board. I would never expect this on a train or plane, why should it happen on a bus?

When I reached the front of the line, I spoke up. "Sir, I had a ticket for the 3:30, can you please tell me how, in the future, I would be permitted to board the bus which I purchased a ticket for?" This was my attempt at assertiveness, addressing a slightly different issue from the one at hand. The ticket taker, a short black guy, didn't respond, didn't look up. "My ticket was for the 3:30 bus," I tried again. "You can git on the bus," he said finally, looking up, confronting me. "What is your name please?" I asked, anger escalating. "Why?" "Because when I call Greyhound I want to let them know who I spoke to." "You can speak to the supervisor, or you can git on the bus." Deep breath. I'm losing this one. "Fine, I'll get on the bus." Realizing I'd be traveling for at least 10 hours, I felt the anger in my chest transform to defeat and frustration. The feeling traveled to my eyes. I've never, since childhood, been able to inhibit this automatic response to stress: crying. I tried to suck it up, opening my novel and pretending I was deeply moved by the story.

The ticket-taker turned out to be the driver. He walked past me briskly, checking the seats and aisle. I'd probably be pretty snippy if I had to drive a bus between NY and Boston for a living, I thought. Just one dose of rush hour traffic on either end is enough to drive a person mad. I began to feel sorry that I had taken out my frustration about missing the bus on Driver. We began our journey as Driver honked and hollared his way out of NY.

I was distracted from my novel by the angry letter to Greyhound I was fashioning in my mind. I am clearly not good at letting things go. "How dare I be inconvenienced?!" part of me was shouting. And then on a side note, "Do I have an inflated sense of intitlement?" My mind was in a mental tug of war. Around dinnertime, Driver turned off the highway and pulled into an Arby's parking lob. Arby's, why? I thought, as if this were a direct affront of my dining sensibilities.

I got out of the bus and everyone filed past me to stretch and get some fast food. Driver and I were left outside alone. "Hey, how you doing?" he asked, walking over to me. "I'm fine," I said, not knowing quite how to answer this question. "Really?" he seemed genuinely concerned. "Yah, it's just been a long day." I felt irritation lift, as if sucked out of my body by a giant emotion-sucking vaccuum cleaner. I noticed Driver had a large mishapen lump on his head, and wondered how this cranial deformity has influenced his life. He smiled at me and disappeared into Arby's. I spotted a convenience store across the street and headed over to get some cheese sticks and gum.

As I climbed up the steps to board the bus again, I told the driver, "Thanks, I really appreciated that." "Yah, no problem," he said, "I was worrying about you." I sat down in my seat, struck by how much impact total strangers could have on each other. I managed to fight and make up with someone I'd encountered for only a few short moments. I figured he probably saw me tearing up.. Separately, we'd taken a conflict and wrestled with it- me angry, tired, but understanding; he tired, nerves spent, but caring. If only there was more of this open emotional commerce in the world, allowing us to make peace with our fellow human beings, things might not escalate to the point of angry letters.