Earnin' Cred and Makin’ Bread: Dietitians Riding the Career #strugglebus

This post was written by Elizabeth Briasco, whom I precepted fall 2015. She is now a dietitian pursuing a Master of Science degree in Sport and Exercise Nutrition in the United Kingdom.

Several words typically come to mind when we hear the word "intern": naive, coffee, and free labor might be some of them. Most internships pay nothing or, at the very most, minimum wage.

However, there are actually internships out there with a less than 50 percent acceptance rate that require interns to pay thousands of dollars just to participate. No stipend is offered for housing, food, materials, transportation, or any other miscellaneous internship costs. The internship consists of at least 1200 hours of practical experience across three to ten different sites and can last anywhere between eight months and two years. Hours range from forty to fifty hours a week, giving interns very little leeway for a part-time job, assuming their internship director even allows them to get one.

Welcome to the confusing, costly, and demanding world of dietetics.

Pledges and the Playa

What you sign up for is not what you get from Burning Man.

The man with the plan, Seth Statmiller, on the playa with his vehicle of choice in 2013. Photo credit: Elizabeth Richardson.

I returned a red jumpsuit yesterday.

It was too big, too coarse, too heavy with pledges I know I won’t fulfill.

A panel of my peers drew me to the jumpsuit. Every August, two established friends trek to Nevada’s Black Rock Desert to gift wheeled mobility to the bikers of Burning Man. Every year, they assemble a crew of employees, comrades, and recommended comrades to pedal the machinery of Hammer and Cyclery.

Hammer and Cyclery camp, 2013. Photo credit: Travus Cartwright.

And every September, they return to the Default World with dust in the creases of their jumpsuits and stars in their eyes and incomprehensible tales in their mouths.

For, unfortunately, no one can be told what Burning Man is. You have to see it for yourself.

Cajoling and curiosity got the upper hand one September. I pledged to don the red jumpsuit the following August, to see how deep the Playa goes.

I fulfill my pledges.

I attended orientation and received my jumpsuit. I bought tickets for entrance, for airfare, for the Burner Express Bus. I took off. I landed. I got on the bus, I got off the bus.

I fell flat on my face.

No, really — the rituals for first time Burners call for immediate facedowntime with the dried out lake bed, the playa, the playground. You won’t escape that salty-slick dust for the next eight days. Get acquainted.

Get acquainted — with the dust, the camp, the comrades, the old friends showing new facets, the rhythm of sunned days and lit nights.

Just another light show in 2016. Photo credit: Alex Düsterfeld.

I was pledged revelry, revelation, reframes, and Burning Man fulfilled these pledges; of course, not as I willed it but as the playa provided.

Take the reiki session for which I waited two hours, before which I traded heartbeats with unmet friends, and after which I could barely pronounce my name.

Take the trip down memory lane, squeezed between a live performance of a nine-piece band and a midnight Skrillex set, lead by a guardian disguised as a established acquaintance.

Take the shoulder-squeezing climb up ladders bound together by wishful welding and good faith; at the top I faceplanted into the figurative and literal open arms of a comrade acquired in a heartbeat; looking for that one last nail to pound into that second freshest coffin.

The Temple, 2016. Photo credit: Mark Kasiewicz.

This wasn’t what had beckoned me. I’d counted on familiar time with established friends, not snatched time with acquired comrades. I thought I’d grow new powers, not accept existing ones. I was promised new brain space, with which I would look forward, not back.

You get what you get and you don’t pitch a fit.

No, I got what the playa had for me. Dusty revelry. Tear-soaked revelation. Prismatic reframes.

Photo credit: Alex Düsterfeld. Sunglasses credit: Camp Gravity. Clown nose credit: Some dude.

I got on the bus, got off the bus. I took off. I landed.

I had stars in my eyes.

I pored over my experience and others’, no longer incomprehensible, now tantalizingly explainable. But the experience jostles and rubs, flashes and glares, rings and sighs. Months of memories unsettled, like a snow globe shaken and flash-frozen.

So I rubbed my head, sighed, picked up the red jumpsuit. “You’re going home again,” I told it. “Have a good burn.”

Hei-Do Tofu

When I was a child, my mom used to make a delightful stir-fry called Ma-Po Tofu. It was an especial treat because it had pork. My mom cooked mostly vegetarian throughout my childhood, so this was a notable departure from the norm (stir-fry with tofu was well within the norm).

Last month, I had a hankering for that same Sichuan dish, so I clicked through the first search result Google gave me: Ma-Po Tofu recipe from Epicurious. The result was satisfyingly similar to my memories, so I filed it away for a repeat.

And that repeat came last night. I contemplated the black beans thawing in the fridge and thought, "I can pretend that's pork." And thus Hei (black) - Do (bean) Tofu was born.

Hei-Do Tofu with a side of bok choy.

Chickpea-Quinoa Pilaf-Salad

This year for Easter, I offloaded my typical bread baking duties to my kitchen scientist husband and concentrated on a toothsome salad. I riffed on a pilaf recipe I'd made a couple times recently, because, you know, never try something new when you're cooking for 22 adults and assorted tots.

This recipe is adapted from Veganomicon, the only cookbook I cook out of consistently (even though I'm not vegan.) It's saucy and spicy. Buy it, I dare you. 

Chickpea-Quinoa Pilaf-Salad

Ingredients.

• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 1 small yellow onion, chopped fine
• 2 tsp garlic and ginger, minced (2 cloves of garlic works, too)
• 1/2 tsp cumin, ground (if you are feeling ambitious, toast the whole seeds first and grind them yourself)
• 1 tbsp coriander seeds, crushed (not ground, let's keep some texture folks - remember, this is a toothsome salad)
• Freshly ground black pepper, some to lots
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1 tbsp tomato paste
• 1 cup quinoa, rinsed (and maybe even soaked, why not)
• 2 cups cooked chickpeas (or 1 15-oz can of the same, drained and rinsed)
• 2 cups vegetable broth
• 1 carrot, shredded
• Fresh cilantro, some to lots, chopped (stems too!)
• 1 tbsp apple cider vinegar

Directions.

1. In a small pot over medium heat, saute the onions in olive oil for about 7 minutes. Add the garlic and ginger, and saute for 2 more minutes.
2. Add the cumin, coriander, pepper, salt, and tomato paste. Saute for another minute.
3. Add the quinoa and saute for 2 minutes.
4. Add the chickpeas and broth. Cover and bring to a boil. Lower the heat until the mixture is simmering, and cook for 20 to 30 minutes, or until the quinoa has absorbed all the broth. Stir whenever you are feeling impatient and want to check on the absorption progress.
5. Remove from heat and cool, perhaps overnight. Before serving (whenever it's convenient, really), stir in the carrot and cilantro. Sprinkle the vinegar and stir again. Taste and adjust the seasonings.