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News24
18 minutes ago
- News24
Proteas women welcome back Kapp for West Indies tour as World Cup plans come to a head
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Yahoo
an hour ago
- Yahoo
For Father's Day, these Maine dads go far beyond grilled steak, burgers and Old-Fashioneds
Jun. 11—If there were an official menu for Father's Day — a holiday that sits toward the beginning of Maine's brief but glorious grilling season — it'd surely be loaded with standard, meaty dad favorites like grilled steaks and sausages, barbecue ribs and smoked brisket. But some dads go for something different, whether they're leaning more into plant-based foods for health reasons, or they're expats craving traditional foods from their homeland, or endurance athletes fueling up with thousands of extra calories to offset what they burned during an epic bicycle ride. We talked with four Maine dads about the special dishes they'll be enjoying this Father's Day. A FATHER'S FAVORITE PIE Dick Farnsworth's strawberry pies have been in high demand over the years. The former Maine state representative from Portland remembered one pie he made for the Legislature's biennial memorial scholarship auction in 2016 that fetched $70, even though it never made it to the auction block. "Before it ever got to be auctioned off at the event," Farnsworth said, "the people in the office decided they'd chip in and provide the resources to devour it themselves." The pies sparked bidding wars at fundraising auctions for the former Hall School, too. "Dad would always put up a pie, and it raised more and more every year," said Farnsworth's son, Rick. "I think the last year the principal bid on it and it went for $75." So naturally, Farnsworth's prized pie will be the pièce de résistance at the Father's Day gathering at his home with his son, Rick, daughter, E.J. Fechenda, and their families. The dish is his mother Bessie's recipe, which she taught him to make when he was in his late teens. Now 84, Farnsworth estimates he's made it hundreds of times over the years. "I've developed some skills around making a strawberry pie," he said, explaining the procedure: Start by baking off a pie crust (he "cheats" with store-bought), fill it with whole fresh berries (local, if in season), and top with glaze. "And when you get done, it is beautiful. It just glistens, it's so pretty. And the flavor is also fantastic. "It's not complex, but there are certain things where you use your chef's intuition, especially when you're making the glaze," Farnsworth added. "You want to make sure that it's just thick enough, not too thin, because then it'll all run down, and not too thick because then it'll lump up." He said when he's stirring the glaze, he can feel the subtle point where the glaze offers his whisk just the right amount of resistance. "It's very zen," chuckled his son. "I learned how to make it. My wife and daughters did too. We were never quite as good at it as my dad. We didn't always get it to gel properly. He's artistic in his presentation of the strawberries, and mounds them beautifully high. He's an outstanding chef, and he just has the touch." The main course for the Farnsworth family Father's Day gathering this year is indeed more like traditional dad food: grilled, applewood-smoked pork tenderloin from Ming Tsai's "Blue Ginger" cookbook. With the strawberry pie waiting in the wings, Dick Farnsworth will gladly preside over grill duties. "Of course," he said. "It's a Father's Day privilege." FUEL FOR AN IRONMAN DAD The Dietary Guidelines for Americans recommend an active man in his early 40s should eat about 2,800 calories a day. Zev Myerowitz Jr., 41, of Cape Elizabeth will consume more than twice as many calories this Father's Day. That may sound like a splurge, but it's only because he's also going to burn 6,000 calories beforehand. Myerowitz is well beyond "active": He's a nationally ranked Ironman triathlete. His annual Father's Day gift from his wife, Amber, is a "husband cycling day pass." "I don't have to take care of any kids," he said. "I get to ride all day long as long as I want, and I just have to be home for dinner." Last year, he and his bicycle racing buddies rode 150 miles in just over seven hours, with 10,000 feet of climbing around Peaked Mountain along the way. "We're not riding easy," he said. "We're riding hard." Myerowitz's food plans for the day are laser-focused on fueling his body for the epic ride. Before, during and immediately after the ride, he's throwing back thousands of calories from nutrient supplements like ketone shots, amino acids, bicarbonates, liquid carbohydrates, energy chews, and protein shakes fortified with probiotics and maple syrup for glycogen replacement. An hour after the ride, Myerowitz starts eating real food. First, a roughly 1000-calorie ham and pineapple pizza with a high-protein crust made from ground chicken, egg and Parmesan cheese. Then Amber makes him one of his favorite meals (about 2,000 calories, all in): gluten-free chicken Parmesan with charred broccoli and rice, followed by their traditional celebratory dessert. "As healthy as Zev Meyrowitz is, he has a sweet tooth," Amber said. "So we'll go to a local ice cream shop and just go wild." The Myerowitzes and their four young kids will head to Gelato Fiasco (for Myerowitz's favorite, Sweet Resurgam) or Willard Scoops in South Portland (for mint chocolate chip or pistachio — or both). "When you hollow out a leg, if you will, you get a little flexibility in how you refill it," Myerowitz said. Amber said when she and Myerowitz started dating about 16 years ago, he'd only just started his physical conditioning regimen. "I remember he went for a 3- or 4-mile run, and he was in so much pain the next day that he could barely get in and out of the car," she said. "So I've seen it from the beginning, and the progress he's made has been absolutely phenomenal. It takes true hard work and determination to be where he's at right now." Myerowitz earned his "pro card," enabling him to tour professionally on the Ironman circuit, though his full-time work as a chiropractor makes it unfeasible. Still, he trains up to 20 hours a week, from 4-7 a.m., so he can be available for the kids when they get up for the day. Amber said as much as she admires her husband's Ironman pursuits, the appeal of extreme endurance sports is lost on her. "I'm not going to even pretend that I want to do that," she laughs. "It's his thing. It's what he loves. But he's a phenomenal athlete and an even better dad." A PERUVIAN FEAST Luis Alberto Perez Narvaez of Bangor celebrates big days throughout the year with his version of a traditional meal from his native Peru: combinado siete colores. It's a combination of dishes like tallarines rojos (pasta in tomato sauce, highlighting the influence of Peru's Italian population); arroz con pollo; white fish ceviche; and papas a la huancaína (potatoes in a cheesy sauce spiced with aji amarillo peppers). The combinado plate — though Narvaez plates the dishes separately — traditionally displays seven colors. "In Peru, it's for special occasions. And for every single Sunday," laughed Narvaez. "It reminds me of soccer tournaments on Sundays in Peru." But because the feast takes Narvaez about six hours to pull together, he makes it only about six times a year. "It's not easy to do," he said. "It's a lot of work." He made the combinado siete colores for the first time in 2019, after gleaning tips from online instructional videos. Narvaez works in renovation construction and as a part-time Lyft driver. But in 2022, he briefly operated a Peruvian restaurant in Veazie called Mi Causa, where he honed his technique. "I'm doing it better now," he said. "With time and practice, you improve. And patience." A pivotal turning point in his learning curve came when he realized chicken in the United States is fattier than Peruvian poultry. To compensate, he now par-cooks the chicken separately to render and discard most of its fat. As a result, his arroz con pollo now tastes like what he remembers from Peru. The rice itself is multi-colored, flecked green with cilantro, spinach and peas, and studded with carrots and red peppers. The ceviche comes together quickest, since the fish marinates in leche de tigre — a lime juice-based mixture — only about a minute. He rounds out the seafood dish with red onion, cilantro, hot peppers, corn and roasted sweet potato. Narvaez is a single dad whose four children live with their mom. Because he's spending this Father's Day with his kids, he's postponing the labor-intensive feast to the following weekend, though his 11-year-old son Damian will be on hand to enjoy the combinado with him. "And actually, I'm going to make more than usual," he said. "I'm going to have a lot of stuff. There's going to be like 15 colors." PLANT-BASED PIZZAS There was a time when a special occasion meal for former chef Alex Desmond would have been built around slow-smoked brisket. He's a longtime barbecue lover who once worked a 500-gallon offset Texas smoker. But at this year's gathering at his Glenburn home — his first Father's Day since becoming a dad nine months ago — Desmond is making a variety of vegan and vegetarian pizzas for the crowd, including his parents, in-laws, wife, brothers and their families. "My father-in-law sings the gospel of healthy food a lot, and it's rubbed off on me over the years," said Desmond, executive director of a Massachusetts-based nonprofit. During his career as a chef, he cooked at venues including a Salem, Massachusetts pizzeria and the former Log Cabin Restaurant in Bar Harbor. "In general, we're trying to make healthier choices, especially now that my wife and I have had a child. Having a little one motivates me to be as healthy as I can," he said. "I believe strongly in fresh food and local agriculture. I think the best thing that anyone can do for their health is to eat good stuff." Desmond's wife, Lisa Rosenthal, said her parents have been eating a mostly vegan diet for health reasons for several years now. She and Desmond have been inspired to eat plant-based meals throughout the week more regularly. As much as Desmond may still love his barbecue, both he and Rosenthal had been either vegan or vegetarian for years-long stretches earlier in their lives. "We're both familiar with plant-based meals, so it's not too hard to make the conscious switch," Rosenthal said. Desmond has entertained with pizzas in the past, and said his whole grain-crusted vegan pizzas go over just as well as the omnivore pies. "Often people will dig into the vegan pizzas and not necessarily notice they're eating the healthy pizza and enjoying it," he said. "They're delicious," Rosenthal said. "It's not like they're relegated to the vegans. He's really perfected his dough over the years. It's crispy on the bottom, with a chewy crust. He makes the basic elements really well, so the sauce and dough are full of flavor." His produce-centric creations this year include a pizza with wild mushrooms, caramelized onions and Miyoko's vegan mozzarella; a spinach, artichoke, yellow squash and pesto pie; and another with gnocchi, figs and walnuts. This year, Desmond will be cranking out pizzas with a new multi-fuel Ooni pizza oven, his Father's Day gift from Rosenthal and her parents. He said he looks forward to the day when his daughter, Margo, is old enough that he can teach her to cook. Rosenthal said she couldn't help but notice that Ooni also sells a toy pizza oven. "We'll probably get one of those for her once she's big enough for it." ------ GLAZED STRAWBERRY PIE This recipe originated with Dick Farnsworth's mom, Bessie. Farnsworth likes to top it with whipped cream and a little maple syrup. 3/4 cup water 2 tablespoons cornstarch 3 tablespoons strawberry gelatin 1/4 teaspoon salt 4 cups strawberries, hulled, washed and dried 1 (9-inch) baked pie shell Combine water, cornstarch, gelatin and salt in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir with a whisk until smooth. Cook 3 minutes or until thick and clear. Let cool until you can touch the glaze without discomfort. Mound the strawberries in the pie shell. Pour the glaze over berries, making sure all berries are covered. Copy the Story Link
Yahoo
an hour ago
- Yahoo
I was brainwashed into wearing a hijab. But Britain mustn't introduce a burka ban
I can still recall the first tentative day that I stepped outside my home not wearing my usual hijab but with my own pixie-cut hair on display and a breeze on my ears – a completely new feeling to was six years ago when I was 31 and studying for a master's degree in philosophy at the Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada. At the time I was married with a three-year-old son. I had worn the hijab since the age of nine, and had always felt it was part of the package of being a Muslim, but in recent years I had begun to have doubts. Islam has a set of rules which cover various aspects of Muslim life, from religious practices to personal matters. I had always been curious about these laws, and had previously completed a master's degree in Islamic studies. But the more I learnt the more I felt that the methodology of Islamic jurisprudence (the theory and philosophy of its rules) was problematic for women. I couldn't help seeing the laws, including wearing mandatory hijab, as essentially misogynistic. Wearing a hijab was also not common in Vancouver, which made me stand out considerably. For the first time I experienced what it truly meant to be a visible minority and it took a heavy toll on my mental health. One day, my son kept refusing to take my hand as we boarded the bus. The tired driver, concerned about safety, snapped at me that I needed parenting advice. I was deeply upset, but then found myself wondering if such a minor incident would have affected me so deeply if I hadn't been wearing a hijab? I questioned myself. As much as I love Islamic spirituality, did I really want to carry its 'flag' when I no longer believed that flag represented something good?It was a few days later that I wrote a post on social media, relaying this incident to my friends and colleagues and explaining that while I was still explicitly Muslim, I would no longer wear the hijab. The next day, when I walked into the university, I had mixed emotions of uncertainty, excitement and freedom. There were a few awkward encounters with colleagues who didn't recognise me. But most people were understanding, and I have not worn the hijab since. The decision was a key moment for my Muslim identity. For it seems being a Muslim woman today is tiresomely linked to wearing a hijab or burka. There is always a great debate. Should you cover your hair? Your face? Are these items symbols of oppression or merely an expression of faith? Oh, and we know how these topics fire up the public imagination. Sparks flew just recently in the House of Commons when Sarah Pochin, the Reform UK MP for Runcorn and Helsby, called on Sir Keir Starmer to 'ban the burka'.'Will he,' she asked from the back benches. 'In the interest of public safety, follow the lead of France, Belgium, Denmark and others and ban the burka?' Thankfully, the question got rebuffed by both the Prime Minister and Pochin's Reform UK colleagues, who said it was not their policy. But it still left me – now a post-doctoral researcher at the University of Manchester – feeling sad and threatened. I worried I might have been wrong in my perception of Britain as a liberal and tolerant place for different religions. Mainly what I struggle with, however – whenever the issue flares up in Parliament – is how on earth politicians think they can prescribe to women how to deal with such a complex and personal issue. For in my case alone, my perception of being a Muslim has changed considerably over time – and I am only 37. I grew up in Iran's capital, Tehran, a super-crowded city that was beautiful to me in many ways. I was surrounded by a loving, happy family, who were religious, but me especially so. As a child, I donned the hijab (the burka isn't big in Iran), and began fasting and praying. I came to love the three elements of Islam: the spirituality, the practising, and the community. And because I was an anxious child, I found an incomparable comfort from reading passages from the Koran and common prayers, while the rituals and rules calmed my busy mind and gave me a sense of satisfaction. I also benefited from the Muslim community that was shaped around anti-imperialist political ideas in Iran. I studied a chemical engineering degree at Sharif University in Tehran, but then – like so many of my educated friends – got married at 22 and moved to London (we had an almost semi-arranged marriage and are now divorced), and it was here that I first encountered the diversity of religious life. Unlike in Iran, I began to see that being religious could go with all types of lifestyles, and it gave me a new perception of how I could live. When we moved to Vancouver in 2017 (I wanted to study in America but Trump had banned Iranians from entering the US), I still wore my hijab. But my dislike for the misogynistic essence of Islamic laws which shaped the culture of my community began to grow. Politically I was also changing. I came to see the scale of crime and deception from the Islamic Republic in Iran, and I came to detest its version of anti-imperialism and its suppression of women. I did not want to give up on my spirituality but I began to refine my version of being Muslim, starting with removing the hijab. When I moved back to London in 2020, to begin a PhD in philosophy at the London School of Economics, my own beliefs were strengthened by those I met. In the prayer room at the university, for instance, I was very pleased to find Muslims like me with no hair covering befriending women in the full burka, and bonding over their common interest in Islam's spirituality. Now – six years on since I first removed my hair covering – I feel psychologically better. I have begun to think that although I had a happy childhood, I was perhaps brainwashed in some respects and probably missed out on exploring my feminine side and having a diverse social life. Now, I have chosen a version of being Muslim that is true to me, and to some extent I think I have inspired my own friends to do the same. As for the draining debate about the burka, I believe Muslim women wear it for all sorts of reasons. They may think it is part of a package of rules which is meant to strengthen their willpower and bring about a special type of spirituality. While I may think the rule is misogynistic, it does not imply that those who observe it are misogynists. But I also understand why some find it very offensive or dangerous. It is natural, perhaps evolutionary, to want to see someone's face in order to connect. And obviously, wearing a burka highlights that the person is an immigrant, and we know many in the UK do not like immigration. Still, the decision to wear a burka or not must be decided by the women themselves. It is very paternalistic for a government to decide how a person might practise their religion. Also, should it be banned, the Muslim community would be enraged. This is what happened in Iran in 1936 (before the Islamic Republic took over in 1978). The Shah Reza Khan Pahlavi banned head coverings in a bid to modernise the country. But that violation has remained in people's memories for generations. Despite the current hatred towards the Islamic Republic and mandatory hijab, people still rage for having their choice taken away. You have to remember, a ban does not just affect the one person wearing the burka. A large circle around that person will feel violated, regardless of whether they are Muslim or not. Also, even discussing such a ban can, I fear, cause a rise in Islamophobia. If you have a hidden tendency towards Islamophobia, and something public like this happens, it may only embolden you. Hopefully, however, nothing like this will happen. I have always felt there is something special about Britain – in how it treats Muslims and religions in general, and in how diverse and liberal it is in this regard. I really hope it stays that way. As told to Gwyneth Rees Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
