Tenzo Kyokun

How to cook a life.

In the year 1237, Zen Master Eihei Dogen Zenji (1200-1253) completed a text that was his most popular treatise on Zen; even today it remains in print and is very popular in certain parts of the world: Tenzo Kyokun or “Instructions for the Zen Cook.” In addition to it actually being instructions Dogen spelled out for how the head cook should conduct themselves in their efforts of providing meals in Zen monasteries, it also became an allegory of how one can use every single moment in one’s life (aka the ingredients) to create or “cook” a life of meaning (aka the meal). Cooking is, after all, alchemy, right? The combining of different elements for the purpose of creating something new, different, magical…yummy. Exactly the same as making a life. 

In Buddhist monasteries, and even at retreat centers around the world, it is believed THE most important job is the Tenzo or Head Cook. After all, it is that person who most intimately tends to the well-being of each practitioner—reaching each person’s heart every day by going through their bellies. The Tenzo is charged with using all the ingredients at hand to craft a meal that fulfills the need of hunger satisfaction without being ostentatious. They prepare meals with their whole being infusing each ingredient with their Soul, creating meals that then infuse each monk, nun, or practioner’s Soul with nourishment. 

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Let’s allow Dad to be our Tenzo:

This past week, I baked bread. Sourdough bread. Dad helped.

Wait, no he didn’t.

He sat and watched.

We also put up a new hand rail on the wall next to our stairs.

Wait, he didn’t help with that either, other than hold the screws.

He sat and watched me do that too. But couldn’t stop himself from commenting: “Kert, you put that rail up in just the right place. Thanks to me.”

Tomorrow we plan to do some landscaping and yardwork.

Wait, nope. Wrong pronoun. Kristin and I will be out there doing the doing; Dad, though, will be out there doing the being. Right along with Sammy. Sammy never helps either.

One of the important things we’re doing here is having experiences…together. So, whether it’s baking bread, mowing the lawn, running an errand with Kristin and Sammy in the car with us, pruning the grapes, weeding, shoveling compost, sitting on the deck just looking at trees—sipping iced lattes and shooting the breeze—or hanging another hand rail on a wall, I want Dad “right there.” Dad NEEDS to be right there. By doing so, by being simply present, he’s serving to create memories…for me, for both of us, for all of us (his gift of ingredients). He has no choice—it’s one way he’s paying his rent. By doing things with his son dammit!!! And he’s gonna love it, DAMMIT! LOL! 😜

We didn’t bring him over so that he would do the exact same thing he was getting away with at Brookdale—namely, sitting in his Lazy Boy (automated and everything), napping, looking at TV (I doubt he really ever “watched” whatever happened to be on), and ruminating, ruminating, ruminating. We (yes, Dad agreed) even decided to take that automated Lazy Boy out of the downstairs space so that he could sit in the leather recliner we always had there—that is a mechanical recliner and he has to use his own muscles to get up and down. He’s way more comfortable in that one anyway.

We have other experiences planned too and I’ll be sure to chronicle them all for you.

But while I was baking bread, we started talking about his childhood, initiating conversations I’ve been interested in having with him to capture the memories we never heard when we were young. Dad, as part of that unique generation, was never interested in talking about himself. So we don’t know a whole lot about who dad was when he was growing up—yet. But, we have to hear from him now or else we lose all those memories—those ingredients will be lost to all his future generations.

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Back to bread baking, and alchemical life making:

Me: Dad, did Grandma Ida, (Dad’s mom) ever bake bread? I can’t remember her doing ANYTHING in the kitchen let alone cook or bake anything. In fact, I can’t remember her cooking anything for us, ever.

Dad: Not really, maybe once or twice.

M: Not like Grandma Mitzel then, right? Grandma Mary would bake up some pretty great German dishes and doughs.

D: My mom wasn’t a big baker.

M: When you were growing up, do you remember some of the dinners your mom would make?

D: We must have eaten a lot of meat. My dad raised pigs and some cows on the farm.

M: So maybe a lot of roasts and bacon and steaks? With potatoes?

D: Yeah. Must have,

[an aside—THIS is exactly how we grew up too! I think we had some kind of meat and potato thing every. single. night. And look at him now…a through and through proud VEGAN! And he’s loving it DAMMIT!]

M: Did you have a favorite meal—something that grandma made that you really loved?

D: [without hesitation and with waaaayyyy too much enthusiasm] Dad said: “HEAD CHEESE!”

WHOA!!!! FULL STOP!!!! STOP THE BLOG, STOP THE BLOOOOG!

Me: Head Cheese Dad? Really? NO WAY!!!

Okay kids—if ever we have a moment to fully appreciate a time gone by, we are there right now. If you have recently eaten, you might want to pause and quit reading—what follows isn’t pretty. Last chance…you have been properly warned because I give you, courtesy of Wikipedia, HEAD CHEESE:

Head cheese or brawn is a cold cut terrine or meat jelly that originated in Europe. In southern Louisiana, hog's head cheese is a specialty that used to be a deli and butcher shop staple. It is made with flesh from the head of a calf or pig (less commonly a sheep or cow), typically set in aspic, and usually eaten cold, at room temperature, or in a sandwich. Despite its name the dish is not a cheese and contains no dairy products. The parts of the head used vary, and may include the tongue and sometimes the feet and heart but do not commonly include the brain, eyes or ears.

Yes, Dad ate this. Yes, Grandma MADE this. And yes, apparently, Dad loved this.

Any questions now why I’m a vegan?

I’m totally okay with the fact Grandma never cooked for us now. Like, really. TOTALLY OKAY! 👍🏼

Alright, blog restarting (thank god!)

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Grandpa Viktor was a hop farmer from Quebec, Canada and raised his own pigs and a few head of cattle. I asked Dad if Grandpa slaughtered the pigs himself. Dad said he must have but at least he could not recall ever watching that. Maybe grandpa didn’t want Dad or any of the other siblings to watch him do that. Or maybe Dad just suppressed it…after eating the head cheese.

The memories Dad still has stored in his mind and body are the ingredients that went into the making of his life. And just as importantly, those ingredients, in my Dad, were also necessary ingredients in the creation of my life, and the lives of my siblings. And…in YOU! (Dad, through the telling of his stories, is passing on the rich ingredients that HIS ancestors passed on to him—think of this as “family and friend heirloom recipes” for how to create a life). Any memory you have of my Dad, any interaction no matter how significant or insignificant, of him or Trevor or Clary or me or our wives, our kids, our friends, all have become ingredients in your own lives as well. THIS is another Zen concept known as interconnectedness or “inter-being,” or “Indra’s Net.” In Africa, it is known as Ubuntu (“I am because you are.”). We create each other—we are ingredients in the lives of other beings as they work on “cooking their own lives” towards something yummy. Just as others are the vital ingredients in our own lives. We are all interconnected.

Dad still has ingredients hidden in his mind. It will be fun to pull those out in order to write some pretty awesome recipes.

May we let them simmer and enrich the meal that will become our own individual, unique, and yummy lives.

Dad and I made bread this week, y’all.

And it was delicious!

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Here’s what you can learn from Tenzos that, and I can share this from personal experience, absolutely makes the food you create taste and feel better when eaten—especially if you make food for others. Tenzos always, always include the same, most important ingredient in every meal they serve. It is an ingredient you cannot buy at a store—it is a priceless ingredient that doesn’t cost a thing yet is sometimes the hardest thing to remember to include. Everyone can tell when the ingredient is lacking in a preparation. And everyone can tell when it is present. Tenzos carry the ingredient with them when they start preparing the meal—in fact, when they first envision the creation of the meal for their guests—and they add the ingredient at every step in the preparation. 

The ingredient? The most important and special ingredient? The one ingredient that even you, reading this now, can start including in your own food preparations that will make a transformative difference in what and how you eat?

Love. 

Tenzo Wally (with baguettes—NOT Head Cheese)

T plus 5 days…and counting.