spring rolls!

making vegan spring rolls is very simple and fun. and healthy! it is a perfect no-cook meal for a hot day, or a wonderful side dish.
visiting my family in California has been a blessing for many reasons, including access to so much fresh, local produce, which inspires me to make dishes like this.

you will need:
spring roll rice wrappers
thin rice noodles (optional)
fresh vegetables and herbs
lime juice
soy sauce or bragg's liquid aminos

I used:
carrots, grated
green onions, finely chopped
red bell pepper, diced
bean sprouts
cucumber, peeled and diced
cilantro, finely chopped
cabbage, thinly shredded
avocado, sliced
fresh ginger, grated

feel free to experiment with different ingredients, such as basil, mint, tofu, mango...

method:
1) first cut up all the vegetables. this is the most time-intensive portion of the recipe.



2) cook your rice noodles according to package directions.

3) combine noodles and all vegetables other than avocado in a large bowl. squeeze lime on top, and drizzle on some soy sauce or bragg's.





4) pour hot (not boiling) water into a wide shallow dish and submerge spring roll wrappers, one at a time, until pliable (about 15-20 seconds, usually)

5) put a few tablespoons of the vegetable mix in the middle of the soft wrapper. place avocado slices on top. roll wrapper, pulling it lengthwise over the middle, then tucking in the sides, and then pulling the other side over. about.com has an easy-to-follow pictorial representation here:

that's it!

however, it is best served with dipping sauce, which can be made quite simply a number of different ways.
i whisked together peanut butter, sesame oil, soy sauce, lime juice, water, and red pepper flakes.

Hands

I am haunted by hands
Grasping
Clenched around bars
Pressed against dirty windows, foggy with condensation
The palms white with the force of their pressure
Free Us
Keep Fighting
Thank You
They tell us
In letters sculpted from thin streamers of toilet paper
Hands hold up T-shirts (big and yellow)
ICE
Emblazoned across the chest
An homage to their captors.

Women and men,
Strangers in a land that does not welcome them
Faces indistinguishable from
Where we stand on the bleak highway overpass
Bundled, huddled, signs in hand:
Justice for Immigrants
Stop the Deportations
Keep Immigrant Families Together
Our thin voices pierce the heavy grey sky as we shout
And sing
STOP THE DEPORTATIONS NOW!
Dona Nobis Pacem

I am haunted by hands
The hands of my sisters and brothers
To whom the virtue of citizenship
Or the honor of hospitality
Are not granted
Strangers in a strange land
Swept up in raids
That sever ligaments and muscles with one deft motion
Leaving skeletal remains
Of families
Shadows and memories of their former selves

Strangers in a strange land
A land that crosses its arms
That puts up its hands, not in greeting, but in
A motion to stop
A land whose hands are clenched into fists
Unkind and unwelcoming

I am haunted by hands
They tell me I am human
Keep fighting
Free Us
I am haunted by their captive hands
Hidden behind the thick somber walls
Of Empire, malice, indifference

On November 22 I found myself at the Suffolk County House of Corrections, joining a small group of activists for an interfaith vigil for immigrant rights. We marched around the prison, signs in hand. We wove our way around to the back of the facility, to a part of the prison that was shut down because it was considered unfit for prisoners (ie citizens), and that is now being used as an ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) detention center. As we walked around, prisoners held up their hands to the windows. As we climbed up onto the freeway overpass in order to see the immigrant detention center better, the people in there held up their hands, too, and then started to make the signs out of what appeared to be toilet paper, and hold up ICE t-shirts to the windows. One of the signs was a slow laborious process to create, transforming before our eyes from Free, to Free U, to Free Us. As we all outstretched our hands toward them, and sang and shouted for justice, I felt almost as though for a split second, those big ugly walls came a-tumblin’ down, and that we were all freed—Free You—Free Us--together for a moment--a moment of solidarity, of compassion, recognition.
But those hands. Those hands haunt me, as I say. They are burned onto my heart—branded with a handprint. Challenging me, exhorting me: Free Us, Thank You, Keep Fighting.
I signed up to be part of a group that will be visiting the detainees regularly and keeping tabs on what is happening in there to people. One of the big problems in these situations is that these people are without documents, and thus become anonymous, lost. Their own families do not know where they are at times. Parents are separated from children. They cannot talk to lawyers, they are nameless, without rights. Stripped of their humanity, moved around from detention center to detention center, deported.
There is something about hands, I think. They are so very human, and they reach out for connection, help. An open hand. But hands can be used to hurt, too, they can be clenched, they can be fists. How do we feel called to use our hands?

http://www.boston.com/news/local/breaking_news/vigil.jpg