Bread and Cheese

Bread and cheese and butter. Mascarpone and ricotta and akkawi. Laban and labneh. Granola and qatayef and turkish delight. Dips and sauces, jams and juices, sweets and treats and snacks. Pantry loaded with homemade goods, freezer stocked up with overflow, and fridge beaming with colors and flavors.

qatayef

It all started in Ifrane earlier this year.

I had always been a home cook enjoying eating in rather than dining out. I liked to experiment with different cuisines and throw ingredients together to see what I could come up with. I rarely followed a recipe and didn't need much space to move around in. I made some Lebanese, some Asian, some American, some Italian, but didn't venture too far out of my comfort zone. There were some dishes that I was reluctant to try, hesitant to put the time and effort into, weary of the energy it was going to take me to put them together not trusting that they would turn out as I would expect.

In Ifrane, while a whole new world of flavors and ingredients opened up to me, I did not open up to it; at least not at first. I stuck as much as I could to "mainstream" cooking throwing together meals I was familiar with working with ingredients I knew. My repertoire of recipes shrunk significantly as I could not find the "exotic" ingredients that were at my disposable in the US. Of course in hindsight much of what was available to me in "quantities" and for "pennies" in Ifrane is considered "exotic" in the US. Who needed coconut milk when you had preserved lemons? Who needed taco seasoning when you had ras el hanout? But I didn't know. I tread very carefully down the Moroccan culinary lane and produced only a handful of traditional dishes, and even less desserts.

Turkish delight

Then I went to Lebanon. And returned. And when I came back my eyes opened.

I saw women who couldn't read or write, let alone follow recipes, put forth exquisite meals. They baked bread, cookies and cakes. They made pizza, chicken nuggets, and fish sticks. They fermented yogurt, pickled olives and juiced oranges. Everything they possibly could, they made at home. They did not have any fancy kitchen equipment, signature cutlery, or a wide open kitchen space. There weren't any graduated cups or spoons, no exact oven temperatures and no food thermometers.

I was left wondering. If these women could turn out a cake without exact measurements, why can't I? And that was the spark I needed.

With that thought I broke through my barriers and expanded my cooking comfort zone. Soon enough I was making fresh farmer's cheese, cakes, bread and pasta. I realized you really did not need an exact cup of flour to make bread, and that even a failed cake is good enough to eat. Every day I put forth a three-course dinner and was left wanting to cook some more.

pasta

Then we came back, and I reunited with my measuring equipment, my electric devices, my designer pots and pans. I decided to carry on with my culinary adventures and expand my offerings. And with imported ingredients easier to find around here I was able to move forward with my plans. I now make quite a few varieties of fresh cheeses, yeast breads and semi-sweet desserts. I feed Yousef homemade granola and Jannah-Rae loves homemade butter on toast. And while it certainly is easier to buy yogurt ready made from the store, it is more fun and more rewarding to serve the one made at home.

laban

And with my new experiments come less cravings. Knowing that I can make qatayef in under an hour and that hot pita bread is not beyond my capabilities, I feel less homesick for Beirut. That I can now have akkawi and labneh for breakfast and toum with dinner, I no longer feel like I need to "import" them when I visit Lebanon. I have become semi-self-sufficient. And I trust that my family is eating well. My only regret is not having more family to share my creations with!

Beirut Marathon 2013/14

I woke up into life on another Sunday. I did not want to get out of bed yet and so I did the usual: check status updates on Facebook. "Walkers and runners, the streets are ours today," said one update. It was from a friend in Lebanon. I moved on. Then it struck me: this time last year the kids and I were in Beirut, and we were part of the Beirut Marathon. How easily time slips by and how fast one moves on. No matter how slow I go about my days, they just seem to pile up behind me.

Here is an excerpt of the post I wrote last year, almost year to date.

For years I have wanted to walk a marathon. Every chance I get I think this is the one I will do. Then I never get around to it. I either am busy with other things, have not trained, pregnant, on bed rest, or just plain lazy. This year, though, the chance landed in my lap out of the blue.

In Beirut, with family around and nothing to do, I decided to take the challenge head on. My cousin and her husband had already registered for the marathon and had an extra bib on hand. "Of course I would go," I responded and the next thing I know it was Sunday and time to head out.

For the full text, go to 10k with 10k.

Happy Sunday!

Perspective

We have been gone from our homeland almost five months and I am not going to say "boy where did the time go"; I know exactly where the time went ~ in Beirut! The two months I spent in Beirut were not only life-saving but also life-changing. I needed to get away from the quiet of Ifrane, I needed to head back to the city, I needed to be part of a hustling urban life again, I needed to be with a support system beyond my husband, I needed to be out and about, I needed good food and much love. And, I got more than I bargained for staying with at my uncle's house, sharing a three-bedroom apartment with him and his wife and live-in maid and my cousin, her husband and their baby.

I got love, I got food, I got family. I also got perspective. I got perspective on paying attention to what matters most. On sitting still and watching the world go by. On surviving rainstorms, cold waves and uncertainty. On spending hours in the kitchen, days at home and nights awake. I got perspective on doing things I enjoy, slowly, deliberately, with intention.

I witnessed my uncle's wife cooking away so that we can enjoy her labor, serving us only the best of what she made, setting aside what did not meet her expectations. I saw her start making a dish from scratch because the end result was too runny, too tart, too doughy. I saw her mixing love with joy with sweat to bring forth elaborate meals and wondrous dishes. I saw her heart and soul and pride at the table and in every dish. I saw that and marveled.

I saw my aunt making her way to her beauty salon religiously every morning. At 8:30 she would stop by on her way to work, talk in a loud voice, open bedroom doors, wake up those who are still sleeping, "force" feed those who have not eaten, dress those who are still in their PJs, catch up on the previous day's events and heads out promptly a few minutes before 9 to open shop. She rarely had appointments that early but she still made sure the salon was open at the expected time. She also rarely had late appointments but she also made sure she closed shop at the expected time. Even during the day when work was slow and there was a lull in customers she would stay put loyal to whoever may show up unexpected.

I spent time with a friend whose husband works in a different country and who is raising three kids on her own. She spends her mornings and evenings and at times everything in-between with her dad making sure he sees his grand kids as much as possible. She and I met on the street as we were walking our kids to preschool. We immediately connected and became almost inseparable for six weeks. We talked, walked, baked and hung out as much as we could, rain or shine.

I spent time with another friend, one I did not think I would reconnect with after years of separation who is raising four kids, one of whom has a learning disability. She and I grew up together, moved apart, reconnected a few years back, slacked off in connecting and then came together again. Every Wednesday and Saturday we would come together and watch our kids play. We chatted about life, the present, the past, the future. We shared mothering tips and tricks. We fed the kids. We looked at old photos and thought back to when we were kids; those were the days!

I spoke to my mom on the phone; she was sad and lonely. I checked in on my dad; he is old and sick. I missed them both, the kids missed them both, they missed us. Yet, they were both going about their days as best they could: my mom waking up in the morning, getting dressed, walking to the bus stop, having her morning coffee, heading to work. Working her shift, bundling back up and heading home to dinner and sleep.

I spent time with family; a lot of time with a lot of family. I saw my Teta and Jeddo; they are old, and live by themselves in the same house they married in. They met the kids; that made the move to Ifrane worth it. I connected with my cousins and their kids, with my uncle's wife who had a double mastectomy, with my uncle's wife's family who are welcoming and very loving.

I spent time with my kids, walking the streets, visiting the stores, being outside. I saw rich relocated Syrians and poor displaced ones. I chatted with the rich and thought often of the poor. I helped where I can and watched, amazed, grateful, speechless and breathless as JR did the same; sharing her change, her snacks, her thoughts with the children on the street. Her questions, ponderings, and reflections on their situation made my heart swell with love, joy, and pride. I remarked at the little boys who stopped at nothing to get a few pennies; standing in the way of cars, chasing after them, hanging from the open windows as they started up at a green light. If only they would take this determination with them when they grew up.

I also spent a lot of time inside, surrounded and alone. And I learned, or rather I re-learned, lessons that have always been in front of me. I learned about perseverance, patience, love, generosity, hope, faith, letting go, relaxing, dedication, loyalty, sacrifice, loneliness, old age, sickness, health, finding a way, getting past setbacks, giving and getting second chances, and starting over - always starting over. It is amazing how one can go through life side by side with valuable lessons and yet never really see them until one is good and ready. I think I am finally good and ready.

Beirut - two weeks in

We have been in Beirut for a week and a half and I cannot believe how fast the time has went. I have been keeping busy this entire time with social calls and family visits and a few outings here and there. Soon, though, I will run out of people to see and things to do, so I am planning ahead for JR's sake and my sanity. It gets tiring carrying one and pushing one around with no car, and there are only so many places I can walk to that we have decided to put JR in a preschool part time starting next week: three days a week, four hours a day.

The preschool is walking distance from where we are staying and in good weather it is a good half an hour roundtrip. She will have breakfast and lunch at the school and I will pack her snack. She will come home in time for a communal nap. Afternoons will be with Yousef and I as will be the other two days in the week. I wish I could provide her with enough stimulation not to have to send her away but she needs the socialization and I need the break. I also wish I had the means to spend more one-on-one time with her but lately that has been really difficult. I guess I need to recognize my shortcomings and admit where I need help. It makes me sad to have to drop her off and I know I am going to miss her. I wonder what I will do with myself with her gone that whole time but I am sure I will still have my hands full with Yousef. My little girl is growing up.

JR has been completely entranced by her surroundings: the extended family, the toy store next door, the rides in the stroller, her brother. She spends hours with my cousin, her husband, my aunt, my uncle's wife, at the toy store without me near her and she is plenty happy and perfectly content. It warms my heart to hear her giggle and laugh and I am so proud of the little girl she is. She is so well behaved and so respectful and gets along with almost anyone. She is willing to try anything at least once and is honest about how she feels about it and is not afraid to voice her opinion. Yesterday she took a bubble bath with my uncle's wife's sister's daughter at their house and had a blast. Tonight she is sleeping with my cousin in her room; we will see how that goes. She completely enjoys the time with the family and I know she is going to miss everyone terribly when it is time to head back to Morocco. She even made friends with the maid and the concierge.

JR's Arabic has taken off and she now communicates as fluently as a native in both languages. There are some sounds in Arabic that she still cannot make but we are working with her on them. She is learning Koran and how to pray. She tried a religion class today but she did not fit it; she was the youngest and it was too strict. She is, however, very excited about the preschool and is looking forward to going there. She thinks her brother is going as well, so I hope she does not get too disappointed when I drop only her off there on Monday.

She opens the door and answers the phone like it was her house. She puts the laundry away and takes out the trash. She loves to help and already knows her way around the apartment and even the neighborhood. She has not been very demanding and is actually behaving well. She is, however, staying up way too late and sleeping way too little.

Yousef is being his own self. Eating, sleeping, playing. My little boy is surrounded by much love and he is responding well to that. Some days, though, he just wants to hide in Mama and won't let anyone else hold him. That is just as well with me.

We all miss Baba and wish he was here. It would be so much more fun with him. Today, we had a tea party with Baba on Skype. It was fun. We even set him up with his own cup and saucer. He will be here soon, but not soon enough. Until then, we will keep on enjoying ourselves as much as we can, eating good food, and having good company.

10K with 10K

For years I have wanted to walk a marathon. Every chance I get I think this is the one I will do. Then I never get around to it. I either am busy with other things, have not trained, pregnant, on bed rest, or just plain lazy. This year, though, the chance landed in my lap out of the blue.

In Beirut, with family around and nothing to do, I decided to take the challenge head on. My cousin and her husband had already registered for the marathon and had an extra bib on hand. "Of course I would go," I responded and the next thing I know it was Sunday and time to head out.

JR woke up early all excited about the "adventure". She gobbled down her breakfast, got dressed like a champ and was at the door before anyone else. She had her own bib and race shirt. We tried a hat but it was too big. All the little girl wanted to do was "run"! and run she did. She crossed the finish line on her own two feet running and walking by herself from the start of the 1K milestone.

Our intention the day before the race was to start at the start line and walk the entire 10K fun walk. However, reality had other plans and the nursing baby held our departure time back. Rather than leaving the house at 7:30, it was after 8:00 when we got into the car. We lost all hope of arriving on time with all the road closures and decided to meet the runners half-way. We parked close to the 5K milestone and started from there.

It was a beautiful day for a long walk. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and a gentle breeze drifted among us. We walked together and separate and stopped for photos. We were cheered on, handed water bottles, and given stickers along the route. JR observed cheering shows, heard loud music, and saw hundreds of people. Yousef was tucked safely on my chest and held on tight every time loud horns were sounded. This experience confirmed the theory that rear facing baby carriers are a sound choice.

The excitement was contagious. I had not witnessed the power of such crowds before and could feel my own adrenaline rising. I had been wearing Yousef since 8:30 and it was close to 11:00 when I unstrapped him completely at the finish line. I had not thought I could walk that far and for that long with such a load on my shoulders. But I did. I had unhooked him once during our walk to nurse and although I had an empty stroller in my hands, I decided to keep wearing him. Both he and I enjoyed the proximity, encouraged each other on, and finished the walk at the same time. JR, on the other hand, finished ahead of us as she had been my cousin's husband's companion and they went ahead of everyone else.

At the finish line we were handed goodie bags and JR got a medal to commemorate the day. She drank more juice than I care to admit and ate just as many treats, but with the exertion and the heat she needed everything she could acquire. Hours later both JR and Yousef were still high from the rush of the day and would not nap easily. Luckily once asleep, they both stayed down for a couple of hours.

As for me, I hardly napped and am finding it rather difficult to settle down and sleep. My feet are aching, my muscles are sore and my mind is racing. Who would have thought that I would come all the way from the US via Morocco back to my home country to scratch off an item from my "bucket list." At the end of the day I probably walked more than 5K as I doubled up the distance at one point having gotten separated from the group and we walked from the finish line to the breakfast point and beyond but the achievement was in participating in the event and not walking the distance. I am so grateful at having had the opportunity to be part of "Run for Lebanon" and hope to be able to take part in such events later down the road.