Theobroma - Food of the Gods

Tidbits of life from a simple Syrian-Californian girl.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts

26 February 2014

Simple dinner

"It does not cost much...It leaves you filled with peace, and the house filled with one of the world's sweetest smells...probably there is no chiropractic treatment, no Yoga exercise, no hour of meditation...that will leave you emptier of bad thoughts than this homely ceremony of making bread."

-M.F.K. Fisher

We are getting some much needed rain and what better thing to do than crank the oven up to 450˚ and bake a loaf of hearty, walnut and thyme-filled bread.  

On my way home from work, I ran into a friend who yelled across the grocery store "Hey Sally - what's for dinner tonight?" She commented that I haven't posted in a while, which is true, I told her the same thing I had told my brother who had demanded pictures of Monday night's dinner, "I'm living in the moment," I responded.  It's cliche, right? It was the best thing I could come up with but I did decide to post tonight in honor of both of them and in honor of my dinner which was fresh baked bread, Bulgarian sheep's cheese, olive oil, crushed garlic, and Chilean wine.  Bon appétit to me and to you, too! 

before: preparing my loaf of bread: thyme and walnuts 
after: but before I smothered the bread in olive oil and garlic

And now some food for thought:

"A bad day for the ego is a good day for the soul." 

Think of the times you have been humiliated or life has shown you that you are incapable of something you so thought knew you capable of doing (I can run this marathon without training, I will face my boss who treats me poorly, etc.).  You try and fail.  It hurts your pride.  But if you take just a moment to reflect on it, it's not that you're incapable or a bad person it simply is what it is and your soul grows from that.  We measure success and growth on money, homes you own, the car you drive but how many people are OK with their soul?  Our society has no measure for soul growth.  How many people realistically face challenges in their lives and can accept when they are incapable of completing a task, of asking for help, or simply succumbing to their limitations?  How many people can wake up in the morning and be happy with themselves, knowing they give their all and their best and accepting that that is their life, their ability, their limit?

I urge you to reflect on your actions, to love yourself, and to accept you for who you are.  And...eat what you love and to your health! 

25 December 2013

Merry Christmas with smoked salmon and amaretto margaritas

Merry Christmas!  We decided to have margaritas with breakfast, why not? 

Amaretto Margaritas

Serves 3

  • 3 parts (6 oz.) of a mixture of freshly squeezed lemon juice* (3 oz.) and frozen Minute Maid limeade concentrate (3 oz.)
  • 2 parts (4 oz.) tequila 
  • 1 part (2 oz.) amaretto** 
Mix all the ingredients above and serve over ice in a margarita glass (you could also blend all the ingredients in a blender).  Garnish with the curly rind of one of your lemons.  

This is a simple recipe, a 3:2:1 ratio, easy to remember even with the hectic nature of holidays!

*I like to use Meyers lemons if you have them handy; they are more floral and pair very well with the amaretto.  
**This recipe normally calls for triple sec here but I didn't have that so decided to try amaretto, it was a perfect accident.  Amaretto is a delicious drink that is often forgotten about except for in amaretto sours, so I guess this margarita is a spin on an amaretto sour.  Excellently sweet, sour, with a touch of bitter almond. 

Merry Christmas margaritas! 

Smoked salmon with whole grain mustard on sourdough baguette 
In his homily, the priest at church last night concluded about Christmas (which I think can be extended to life in general) is that we all just want to love and be loved.  Isn't that the truth? I hope you spent your day with the people you love and that love you. 

01 November 2013

Land of milk and honey

We had breakfast on the rooftop of our hotel, with a view of the acropolis and ruins of the Temple of Zeus. The planter boxes that lined the outdoor terrace were filled with rosemary, oregano, geranium, among other fragrant herbs. A small olive tree grew to my right, with black olives hanging ripe on it. It's incredible how lush the land is and consequently extremely fertile, explains a lot of the richness of the cuisine and the ancient tradition of food production,  preparation, preservation.  

We took a bus to the Cape of Sounion today, about 75 km SE of Greece. We wound along the Aegean Sea passing gorgeous homes, fuchsia bougenvilia, white and purple oleander, olive trees, caper trees, and more oregano than meets the eye. There's something about the Mediterranean - the sun glistens off the water differently here, it seems shinier than elsewhere, maybe from all the blood spilled in ancient battles or all the passionate love stories that were made here or maybe there's just something magical about the Mediterranean. There definitely is. We stopped on the side of the road for a view of the temple of Poseidon (Greek God of the Sea), and continued on our way to the topf of the hill where the Temple is located.  The Temple was built by the Greeks in the 5th Century BC. Apparently the temple was destroyed by the Persians in the 4th Century and rebuilt by the Greeks in the 5th.  It is a 4-sided building, with the traditional Greek columns, 42 originally of which 15 stand today. 

 
Temple of Poseidon, Cape Sounion, Greece

View from the top of Cape Sounion

Remains of the Temple of Poseidon, Cape Sounion, Greece

Beautiful - I don't know what tree this is but it wasn't an olive tree

Partridge!

These flowers were growing up between rocks in seemingly unlivable conditions

Mama and me at the Temple of Poseidon

Enjoying an afternoon freddo cappuccino - a very commmon Greek drink, espresso over ice with really thick foamed milk on top.
The colors at sunset here are incredible. A golden sun set in a clear sky that's changing colors by he minute, pinks and oranges, soft purples and blues. The closer the sun gets to the horizon, the more yellow it appears and the more pink the sky becomes. Now more purple skies - no wonder people stop what they're doing at sunset and allow themselves to be mesmorized by the beauty of it.

excuse the quality of the photo, it was taken from the bus but this is the sunset over the Aegean Sea
In the evening, we wound through the old allies of the Plaka to a Tavern recommended to us by the concierge.  It was a bit off the beaten path, nestled in a hill right next to an Orthodox Church. We sat at the top of the hill and let the waiter (who I named Georgous because that seems to be every other man's name here) choose our meal for us.  We started with a Greek salad, cucumbers, tomatoes, thinly sliced red onions, capers, olives and feta cheese, that Georgous dressed for us with olive oil, apple cider vinegar and salt.  Georgous was a very animated man, "you must eat Greek salad with a lot of olive oil otherwise it's not Greek salad," he proclaimed as he threw his hands up in the air. For the next course, mama and papa b had grouper with spinach and monkfish with mushrooms, respectively.  I had lamb cooked in foil with potatoes and cheese - another waiter removed the contents of the foil onto my plate at the side of the table. The food was delicious, tender and flavourful.  One of the times Georgous came to check on us he insisted I try a caper with a chunk of potato and a piece of meat, which I did.  I ate it and smiled and he said "you see, The Greeks, we know how enjoy the food!"  We had this with a jug of house red wine that was spectacular and believe it or not, we did not have dessert!  

31 October 2013

Kalispera, Atena (good evening, Athens)

The sky was a pink, orange haze - that old world haze that's characteristic of these ancient countries.  As we descended over Athens, you could see the beachfront houses in neat little rows - they looked as of they were glued together and I imagined Greek neighbors yelling from one house to the other: the latest gossip, the price of tomatoes, politicking. It made me think of the conversation I had had with the young Argentinian lawyer next to me, he was asking about the social life in the US, is it really as fast-paced as they say? Are people very solitary and don't go out? I explained that it depends but it's easier to be less social when our houses are so spread apart (as opposed to the "flat-style" buildings so characteristic of the majority of the world.  The way of life makes it easier to drive home after work and stay home in front of the TV, maybe that's also a cultural difference - it is a less social culture and people don't feel the need to socialize and are fulfilled by being in front of the TV. (Or, maybe that's part of what's wrong with our culture, a lot of our depression problems may be because of a lack of social life...?)

The cab driver put our bags in the trunk without even making eye contact with us, I could tell this irked my dad - he really likes to make friends.  We got in and drove off, the warm Mediterranean air blowing through the open windows, the breeze was welcome after being in/on an airport/airplane (read: hot, sweaty, stuffy, recycled air) for 20+ hours.  The radio hummed zorba-esque music in the background and I was taken back to one hot summer in Damascus - we were eating dinner in the open-aired courtyard of an old house converted to a restaurant in the old city. There was a big Greek group dining and the guitar player welcomed them with the zorba, we were invited to join and we spent the evening dancing around the fountain in the center of the restaurant - starting slow and speeding up the tempo, as the zorba goes. I smiled at the memory and knew that before we leave this country, we would dance the zorba again. 

The cab wove through the streets - in that  "ordered chaos" characteristic of old-world-country-driving. Lanes are ambiguous and personal space, non-existent; pedestrians may or may not walk into traffic causing a fit of rage for drivers; motorbikes and vespas take advantage of their size and weave around cars.  The driver wasn't shy to lay on the horn if traffic was taking longer to clear for him than he would like. He sat on a mat of wooden beads - for the heat and a wooden cross hung from the rear view mirror. 

The street signs made me think of my college physics and calculus classes, alphas and betas and thetas. What a beautiful alphabet, not to mention old...

Mama exclaimed that she had spotted the Acropolis! Although it was dark, we could see the Acropolis through the trees as we made our way to our hotel. As we pulled up to the lobby, mama handed the driver his fare and said "efharisto (thank you) so much."

Time to explore! We left our hotel, and were almost run over by motorcyclists who seem to flirt with the cross walk line, anticipating the green light. We wandering around the ruins of the Temple of Olympian Zues and Hadrian's Arch - the columns mightily standing the test of time. This time when we crossed the street, we took extra caution - drivers here are reckless!  In the Plaka, we heard a man softly playing guitar and singing a ballad into a microphone; restaurant owners invited us to have a seat and eat at their restaurant, each claiming theirs to be the best one around. A man sat behind a cart selling roasted chestnuts and corn on the cob; another older gentleman had a compartamentalized cart of nuts "prova!" he proclaimed as we approached. We tasted various nuts, macademia, almonds, cashews and decided on roasted, salted almonds for an evening stroll snack. Men were selling these contraptions that light up as they soar through the air; another couple of young guys were playing with fire - the more daring of the two taking sips of gas and roaring out fire to please the crowds dining in the Plaka. We walked slowly through the olive tree lined allies stopping in each shop to admire the souvenirs, or sample candied fruit.


Ruins of Temple of Zeus in Athens, Greece

More Ruins of the Temple of Zeus

kids messing around near the guys playing with fire in the Plaka, Athens, Greece

Greek yogurt + Greek honey = yummy

various yogurts

Multi-use  hollowed out log, planter

the Acropolis at night

 

09 August 2013

Made in Monterey

The best way to thank someone for something is to cook them dinner, in my humble opinion.  It's more personal that way, I think.  Also, cooking is a creative art and relaxing, you get to be alone with yourself in the kitchen creating something, something that someone else (or you, yourself) will savor.  I don't know about you but I find peace in cooking, I relax (especially when I drink a glass of wine and listen to good music while I'm cooking, jejeje).  I had a "Thank you" dinner scheduled last night for a friend who did a huge favor for me...so I decided to try to go local... 

Yesterday on my way home from work I stopped at the Monterey Fish Company (at Wharf #2) to see what was fresh.  They had recently caught Monterey Bay Rock Cod, among other fish, but that looked good to me.  I bought a couple fish and the nice young guy scaled the fish and gutted them.  I asked if I could watch and he showed me how to swiftly and cleanly gut a fish, something I have never done before.  It will take several poorly gutted fish before I can do it with his grace.  I also bought squid but did not prepare it last night, I'll keep that for another post.  

Thank you fishies, for letting me eat you 
I went with simple: extra virgin olive oil (grown and pressed in Watsonville), Crane Lake Sauvignon Blanc (from Napa Valley), rosemary (that I picked at work), thyme (that I picked in my aunt's garden), Meyer lemon slices (that were given to me from my friend's tree), salt (oops, Himalayan salt that I bought at the store) and garlic (that I found in my parents' kitchen which surprisingly enough CAME FROM CHINA!).  Well, I try to do local.  

I put 2 super long pieces of foil on a baking sheet, perpendicular to one another, laid the fish on the foil and generously poured olive oil, salt and the herbs over and in it.  I had cut some slits in the fish and stuffed the slits with herbs and chopped up garlic and inside the fish I placed thin slices of the lemon and more garlic and herbs.  At the end I drizzled the fish with some white wine and sealed the foil, making a tent like structure.  I put it in a preheated oven (at 375˚ F) and baked it for 20 minutes. 
seasoned Monterey Rock Cod 
 The green beans (from the Farmer's Market) were blanched then tossed in olive oil and butter that had thyme and almonds frying in it. 
green beans from the Farmer's Market

Voilà

Yum!

Dessert was honeydew (farmer's market) with lime  (farmer's market) squeezed on it and fresh mint (aunt's yard)...refreshing!

07 July 2013

Valparaiso & Viña del Mar

I think I’m more of a Thank God it’s Saturday kind of girl.  I was happy to have a day with no schedules to keep and no sitting for hours on end after a long, long week of work. 

I woke up this morning, well before the alarm I had set on the off chance I sleep in.  It was still dark out but there was no chance of my falling back asleep.  I got up and went to the breakfast room, I had a long day planned; I was going to visit Ramon and Ana in Vina del Mar.  I met Ramon and Ana on a tour in San Pedro de Atacama, we had gone to see flamingos, salt flats and lagoons up in the Andes.  Ramon told me all about Chile’s history and I picked his brain about Chilean culture.  I told him I would be in Santiago for a couple weeks for work and he invited me to Vina del Mar, which is on the coast of Chile and one of Chile’s largest wine producing regions.  He gave me instructions on which bus to take and assured me that he would be waiting for me at the bus station upon my arrival and I could spend the weekend with his family.  


Sunrise over the Andes
pretty flowers and looking down from the hotel

I stopped at the supermarket to pick up a bottle of wine and discovered, much to my disappointment, that in Chile you can’t purchase alcohol before 9 am.  So I walked to the metro station – everyone was super bundled up; it rained yesterday and the temperature drops drastically after a rainfall. I watched a girl pet a stray dog on the street, he got up, wagged his tail and followed her for as long as I could see.  I arrived at the metro station at 9:02 am, there’s a Lider Express (Walmart!) right above the Manquehue metro station.  I ran in, bought a bottle of wine and headed to the metro.

It was a long ride to Pajaritos metro station which is also a bus station but I had fun people watching.  A group of students from the US came on at one point and were loudly taking pictures of just about everything.  A couple stood nearby, infectuously in love.  A little girl sat next to her mom, with headphones that were way too big for her head and swung her feet jerkily back and forth off the metro seat.
I purchased my ticket at 9:49 for a bus departing at 9:50.  The attendant who sold me the ticket said vete al tiro  (go immediately! al tiro is a Chilenismo which David (the driver for the organization I’m working with), explained is a military term, tiro means bullet and so when someone says “go al tiro it means like at bullet-speed.  You will often hear Chileans say “I’ll bring you the check al tiro” so it means immediately, right away, etc.) The bus driver asked me if I was going to Vina, I said yes and he walked with me to the bus.  I found my way to my assigned seat and the woman sitting next to me was eating potato chips and sucking down ketchup from those little packets that you get at fast food places in between each bite.  She said you got here just in time!  I called Ramon to let him know I was on the bus and he told me he would be waiting for me upon my arrival. 
There’s this alert on the Chilean buses that beeps if the driver goes more than 100 km/h.  It’s fine if you have a bus driver who doesn’t speed, otherwise it’s obnoxious...
Santiago is about 520 m above sea level and we were heading down to sea level.  Heading down the mountain we went through the cloud line, it was so enchanting.  The highway is lined with green trees, evergreens I suppose and there are eucalyptus speckled here and there. 

from the bus, look at the clouds!!!

We passed TerraSanta, an olive oil factory, I didn’t know before this trip that Chile produced olive oil.  And good olive oil at that, I have been having it with my bread at lunch and it’s quite excellent. 

We drove through what seemed like a toll road and a cute girl got on the bus with a basket of sweets.  She walked up and down the aisle calling out what she had in her basket, alfajores, calugas de manjar…I bought a pack of calugas de manjar con nueces (a carmel that has the consistency of fudge, with walnuts) and wrapped them up to take back home. 

Ramon was calling me as I stepped off the bus, I picked up but nothing.  I hung up and went in the bus station to wait.  I figured we were running on Chilean time so I ordered a café con leche, took a seat under circling flies and called him back.  Si, Sally! Estas? (Sally! Are you here?) I told him I was and he said that he was running an errand at the pharmacy and would be at the bus station immediately after.  I people watched the people watching the futbol game on the TV in the bus station and sipped my coffee.  I finished my coffee and people watched more, security guards stood chatting to one another and a clearly not Chilean girl ran around frantically looking for a bathroom before catching her bus.  (Oh, how I can relate).  I decided to go look for a bathroom myself while I waited for Ramon.  At the end of the bus station my phone rang, Ola, Ramon.   

Sally, estoy en el terminal pero no te veo (I’m at the bus station but I don’t see you) I turned around and there was a man in the middle of the station on his cell phone.   

Ah, si, llevas un abrigo Moreno? (are you wearing a brown jacket).   

The man lifted his left arm and looked down at it, bueno, es de color café (it’s more coffee colored).  I told him to turn around, we made eye contact and hung up.  He gave me a beso and a big hug.  Ramon is a high strung man who speaks very fast, he’s full of anecdotes, stories, political commentary, you name it.  I trailed behind him, trying to keep up as we wove through people and stray dogs over to the mall where he was parked.  We ended up in a Chilean Home Depot when he remembered he needed to go to the ATM, he turned quickly to the security guard, stopping in mid-sentence and asked where he could find an ATM.   We ran up the stairs, again weaving through people and waited in line for the ATM.  A lady came up and got in front of us in line, Ramon moved forward, senorita.. I didn’t hear the rest of what he said but I imagine it to be something along the lines of there’s a line or we were waiting and he stepped in front of her.  Eventually we made it to his car and headed out.  He told me we were going to drive around Valparaiso in the morning and in the afternoon we would do Viña del Mar. 

café con leche

We drove along the Pacific Coast admiring the houses and he stopped along the way telling me stories, that building used to be a prison, over there you see was a coal refinery, the ocean at that point is 50 meters deep, there are these trees that grow here, that irritate some people’s skin, lots of stray dogs – can’t you see.  He is a talker and I enjoyed every minute of it.  We drove by his elementary school and he pointed to the second story and told me that when it rained he and his classmates used to open the windows so that they would collect water and when someone walked by underneath, they would close the window so that all the water would fall on their head.  (You know, the windows that open from the bottom at an angle).

View of Valparaiso

houses in Valparaiso

looking down a look out.  The building in the bottom center of the photo, with a big chimney used to be a garbage crematory
Our first stop, besides lookouts, was La Sebastiana, Pablo Neruda’s house (the famous Chillean poet).  It’s a 5 story house that has been converted into a museum and still has the layout that décor that Neruda had when he lived there.  The view was spectacular and so was the layout of the house, it was like a boat with narrow stairwells and round windows like those on a boat. 
La Sebastiana, Pablo Neruda's house overlooking the sea

Neruda and me, deep in conversation

Next we drove up to the highest point in Valparaiso (well almost, the last bit wasn’t paved and the road was really bad). We drove up at about a 60 degree angle and I told Ramon that it reminded me of San Francisco.  The car was in 2nd gear and started to slow down about halfway up the hill, he put it in first and the car gave a little jerk as we plowed up the rest of the way.  We pulled over and took photos; we could smell empanadas baking in someone's oven, yum… As we got back in the car Ramon told me that the women of Valparaiso are known for having strong legs from walking up the hills.  Makes sense.  He then told me about a bike race they have every year that is just downhill, (crazy) cyclists take their bikes up to the top of the hill (which would be akin to Nob Hill in SF) and soar down, whoever gets down first wins.  The difference between Valparaiso and SF is that it’s not a straight shot down to the water, it winds and turns.  Oh and to make it more fun, they set up ramps and do tricks.  Haha!
Looking out over Valparaiso from the tip-top of the city

The road leading up to the lookout.  This is where the bicyclists do their race. 
We drove down to Valparaiso proper, Ramon narrating.  We passed hole-in-the-wall markets with signs outside that read hay pan (literally, “there’s bread”).  We found a great parking spot and walked down to an Anglican Church – pretty green and Ramon commented that they have a fantastic organ inside. 
Cemetery in Valparaiso

Anglican Church in Valparaiso

Jasmine growing on a pretty hostal in Valparaiso

The houses were all bright colors and there were artists out painting and selling their work.  It reminded me of Montmartre in Paris.  As we walked, Ramon commented that they walk a lot in Valparaiso, hay mucho obesidad en los estados unidos (there’s a lot of obesity in the US).  I agreed.  He said the fall of the Roman Empire was sex and orgies, the fall of the US will be the hamburger,  with a chuckle.  He started singing a song about Valparaiso, a ballad I guess you could say.  Ramon is a porteño (a native of Valparaiso) and there are many songs written about the beautiful port city - of the nostalgic variety. 
Colorful houses, Valparaiso

poor kitty!!!

There was the “El Murcurio” building (The Valparaiso Mercury, newspaper) and the clock tower, Turri.  Across the street from the Turri clocktower, we took an “elevator” (more of a funicular) up to another paseo where we found more artists, handicrafts, stray dogs and pretty patios.  Eventually we made it back to the car and headed to his house for lunch.
Funicular

Patios


Steep streets

Pelicans!


Lookout over Viña del Mar and Valparaiso, a few blocks from Ramon's house
Entra entra, hace mucho frio! (Come in come in, it’s so cold!) Ana called and she let out a squeal as she gave me a kiss and a big hug. I went in their house,  dodging the two dogs in the front yard.  There was an old lady sitting on the couch and Ramon introduced her as his mom.  I bent down to give her a kiss and she said “I’m Mercedes but they call me Merche”  

Encantada! Soy Sally. (Pleasure to meet you, I’m Sally) We sat down to lunch, beautifully arranged salads of lettuce, beets and olives were set on the table.  There were cut up lemons, various oils and salt to dress the salads to one’s own liking.  Merche asked me for the 6th time if I had siblings.  Ana had explained after the 4th time that her mother-in-law is 92 and forgets things. It’s the human condition (one of which, anyhow).  We went on to the next course, a chicken soup.  Ramon added merkén to his and invited me to, too.  Merkénis ground, dried, smoked ají peppers and a typical spice of Chile.  I happily added some to my soup.  Next course was turkey breast with herbs and mashed potatoes.  We sat and talked about all sorts of things, politics, Chile’s history, my life, my family, their children and grandchildren.  The table was cleared and a fruit platter emerged.  We ate fruit and then had herbal tea and kucken (cake, but it’s a German word!) that Ana had made.  I wrote down recipes in my journal as Ramon played Chilean folk music in the background.  Ramon and Ana’s nephew showed up with his son and had tea with us, they live just a few blocks up the road.  Ramon played more music for me and explained the lyrics, they were beautiful.  He got emotional listening to one that reminded him of his childhood.
Eventually we bundled up, Ramon, Ana, Merche and me and headed down to the beach at Viña del Mar; the sun was just about to set and the sky was changing color by the minute. 
Pacific Ocean, Vina del Mar

Vina del Mar


Pelicans!

Almost sunset

sun setting over Viña del Mar

different angle of the beach, I couldn't help but take so many pictures

Incredible

The flower clock of Viña del Mar
We drove along the coast and I got more stories and anecdotes.  This time Ramon had brought a CD in the car and was playing folk music from Valparaiso, all three of them sang along, even Merche! 

I kept hearing them talking about tomar la once (literally translates to “having the 11”) and I kept thinking in my head what they were talking about?  Tomar, the verb, is usually used for eating or drinking something and 11 I thought could be elevensies but it was 7pm.  Finally I asked what tomar la once meant.  They laughed and said it was the afternoon tea or coffee.  Ramon explained why it was called eleven; during colonial times, in the afternoon the people wanted to have a drink (liquor = aguardiente) but they didn’t want their superiors know so they would say we’re going to “have the eleven” because there are eleven letters in aguardiente (aguardiente is the alcohol distilled from grapes).  Ana said in Uruguay they call it merienda, which is also what they call it in Spain.  So we went back home and tomamos la once (we had the eleven); we had tea with fresh bread and cheese and more kuchen. They recommended places to eat in Santiago, music to listen to, drinks to try and insisted I come back to visit if I am ever back in Chile.  I invited them to California and they said they would come for my wedding.  Merche asked me for the 8th time if I had a boyfriend and Ramon answered for me, no mama, ya te lo dijo varias veces (no, mom, she’s already told you that several times).  We kissed good bye and Merche kissed me three times, held both my hands and gave me blessings, saying soft prayers to my forehead. 

Eventually Ramon took me back to the bus station; we talked politics and human rights for the whole ride.  He pulled over in front of the station and got out to give me a hug and a kiss and told me to take care.