Recognizing Enoughness

Asparagus Tacos

I began this year by declaring January a “no buy” month. Basically anything other than essentials (food, basic home supplies, etc.) was a no-go for me. I’m not a huge consumer (I guess that depends on the day, honestly) but I will admit that I do love the dopamine hit of something “new”. And by “new” this could simply mean new-to-me. The thrill of the thrift is how I like to spend many hours when it’s not foraging season. Basically I’m a grown child who is always on the hunt for a good hunt. 

This exercise of the no-buy month was created to serve a few different purposes. 1. To ease the holiday strain on our bank account. 2. To lighten the load in our already crowded home. 3. To help me enjoy and appreciate what I already have. What I didn’t foresee was how much mental load that was also relieved as I took away the question of what I was wanting or needing. I would continually tell myself, I have everything I need. And I found that to be delightfully and abundantly true. 

Of course there were things that would come up that I wanted, but rather than feel any sense of frustration, I would simply put it on a list and tell myself that if I still wanted these things in February, I would consider buying them then. But you know, there really wasn’t much on that list at the end of the month. What I noticed was a shift in my own contentment - by removing the ability to get what I wanted I started to appreciate the abundance I already had. 

In her book, The Serviceberry, Robin Wall Kimmerer writes, “Recognizing “enoughness” is a radical act in an economy that is always urging us to consume more.” The world around us, through the media, advertising, etc. thrives on us feeling that we don’t have enough, that we aren’t enough, that if we just get this one more thing we will feel full from finally having enough. But then there’s just one more thing we need. If you thought you were enough before, just wait until you get this new gadget, this new wellness hack, this new pill, etc. We’re trained to be looking for all the things we need, sold to us with the belief that we’re one ‘thing’ away from happiness. By taking this off the table I learned that I have enough and more importantly, I am enough. 

It’s enough for me to get giddily delighted by taking a photo everyday as the lilacs swell to their full bursting bloom. It’s enough to feel the warmth of the sun on my back while digging in the garden with my two dogs, three chickens, and my nearly 19 year old son with me. It’s enough to pull together a very random pantry-inspired dinner that was actually surprisingly delicious. It’s enough to write this sitting next to my tomato starts bending towards the sun next to the window, and to hear the others in the house going about their morning routines as they ready themselves for school and work. They are healthy and here. It almost doesn’t feel enough to call this just enough - it’s abundant, it’s everything, it’s more than enough. 

It’s enough that I spend many of my days puttering about writing this and that, stirring a few pots, thinking of what’s the next thing I want to create to share with the world, planting seeds, watching trees move from bloom to bare branches, standing in the rain watching my son play baseball, helping my adult child make future plans, watching Modern Family with my daughter while we dip our spoons straight into the Ben & Jerry’s carton. By recognizing the enoughness in my life I went from asking “what more do I want?” The question that leads to stressed bank accounts, over crowded closets, and a subtle emptiness that creeps in when you realize that things don’t fill the holes in a soul. To asking “what more do I need?” The question that is more like a statement. A declaration that I have and that I am enough. 

Perhaps these realizations are also part of the joy of getting older. The gift of perspective that comes from walking through tough shit which makes stopping to smell the lilacs feel like an essential spiritual practice. Being able to spend time digging in the dirt when the sun comes out in the middle of a random Thursday is more than enough. And in fact that’s what I plan to do just as soon as I share this recipe with you - something I’ve done on the internet for years, but now feels more enchanting than ever. 

I’ve been archiving years and years of recipe sharing on my old blog, Not Without Salt. It’s been so fun to go back and read snippets of when the kids were little. I was always careful not to share too much of their lives there but rather I’d give insights into my own thoughts on motherhood, partnership, and making a life around the table. Those kids are now teenagers, one of them is getting ready to leave the house come the fall, and I’m even more careful to not share too much as they are living and leading their own lives, but I will share these tacos. A friend made these Asparagus Tacos for me recently and it was such a lovely reminder for how delicious they are. A few simple ingredients that come together to make a nourishing and delicious meal. That’s more than enough. 

Asparagus Taco

Serves 4 to 6

1 bunch asparagus

1 tablespoon olive oil 

1 teaspoon sea salt

1 teaspoon cumin seeds

1/2 cup sour cream 

1 tablespoon mayonnaise 

1/4 cup finely minced pickled jalapeños 

1/4 teaspoon sea salt 

3 -4 radishes, thinly shaved

4 - 6 corn tortillas 

1/2 cup cilantro leaves

lime wedges

Queso Fresco

Instructions

Preheat the oven to 425°F

Place the asparagus on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper (for easier cleanup).

Add the olive oil, salt, and cumin seeds to the asparagus. Toss to combine then lay out the asparagus in a single layer.

Roast until tender and frizzled in parts, about 20 minutes.

Once cool enough to handle, roughly chop the asparagus.

To make the aioli combine the sour cream, mayonnaise, and pickled jalapeños with a pinch of salt.

Warm the tortillas either in the oven wrapped in aluminum foil or carefully over a low gas flame.

Add a tablespoon or so of the aioli to each tortilla, top with about 1/4 cup chopped asparagus. Sprinkle on cilantro leaves, a squeeze of lime, shaved radishes, and Queso fresco.