All posts filed under: Monday Meal Review

Monday Meal Review: Libya

THE SCENE: I take off Ava’s fuzzy hat and coat, give her a kiss and off she goes – into her classroom. As I turn to leave, her teacher calls after me. “What are you cooking today?” “Libya!” I exclaim, perhaps a bit to excitedly, “I’m trying their version of shortbread. They put a whole clove in them!” “Sounds great!” she smiles, and gets right back to work, helping the kids with the day’s craft project. I pause for a moment to watch them work, admiring how carefully their little hands stamp stars and hearts onto the paper. Thirty minutes later, I am home, ready to work. The Libyan cookies whip up easily and, while they aren’t very sweet, the whole clove makes them taste like the holidays. Once cool enough to handle, I pack them up in tissue-lined tins; red, green, and white. In the afternoon I pick up Ava from school and hand one to each of her teachers as a thank you for their hard work so far this year. Over the …

Monday Meal Review: Liberia

THE SCENE: The first of two cakes. I walk up to her proudly. I carry the still-warm cake in my hands. The scent of cinnamon, and molasses fills the room. “What is it?” she asks, peering into the pan. “Gingerbread cake” I reply. “Ooh,” she says. With a quick flourish I flip the cake over onto the platter. “Should we see what it looks like?” I ask. Her eyes grow wide. “Yeah!” she says. Dramatically, I raise the pan. “What is it?” she gasps, staring at the golden rings of delicately overlapped plantains. “Plantains” I say, smiling. She recoils, like a vampire from garlic. It’s been a while since we’ve had plantains. They’re like strangers again. “It’s… it’s… bananas!” I hurriedly say, grasping to find something she can relate to. She comes closer again, looking at the buttery, sugary goodness. “Bananas!” she smiles. But I can’t lie. Not for long, anyway. I wait until the exact moment she takes a bite to correct myself. “Yes, plantains are like bananas. These are plantains.” With the food already in …

Monday Meal Review: Lesotho

THE SCENE I sink into the couch, tired from cooking all day. Malky makes tight circles on my lap, looking for a place to settle. I weigh my options. An entire espresso machine is out of the question. I only need to froth hot milk, for goodness sakes. No need to be extravagant. The clock ticks past 4:30 p.m. There isn’t time to shop around for one of those fancy, battery-operated, milk-frothing wands either. The closest store is too far away. And, if I am going to get pictures of these lattes before nightfall, I need to make the tea within the next 45 minutes. Malky finally settles into my lap, purring. Too distracted to pet him, I pick up the phone. I stare at the black screen a moment, before waking it up and dialing. Two rings and he answers. “Keith,” I say, ” I need you to stop by the coffee shop on your way home. I ran out of time and it’s almost dark” “What do you need?” he asks. “A giant cup …

Monday Meal Review: Lebanon

THE SCENE: I am five minutes into mashing and squashing an entire head of garlic, when I realize I am not really sure what people mean when they say “I cook with my heart.” My kitchen is littered with garlic peels. The papery petals stick to my fingers when I try to scrape them up. This is my second head of garlic for the day. Earlier, I roasted an entire head of garlic for the baba ghanoush. Two heads of garlic is a lot for one single, solitary meal. For the 2.5 of us. I laugh. How did I get here? I scrape the blob of garlic paste into my mini-prep and buzz it together with a splash of lemon juice and a drizzle of olive oil. It turns from pale cream to butter yellow. The scent explodes into the air. Is this what happens – is this the result of cooking from the heart? Does one really need two entire heads of garlic in a meal? No. Had I let my love of garlic …

O’ happy day. We’re almost halfway.

97 Over the last (almost) two years we’ve eaten meals from 97 countries* of the world. That means we’ve eaten just about half the world. Deep breath. Smile. Yum. We’re on our way. 12 In addition, I’ve met more than a dozen people exactly when I needed them to help me cook their countries. And when I say exactly, I mean in the week or days leading up to the country in question. Some straight-up knocked on my door, some were my checkout girls at Whole Foods, others were random mommies at library story times, while still others reached out via email.** Meeting someone who could help me with my recipes exactly when I needed them once is cool. Twice is a little creepy. More than a dozen times? Totally and completely epic. What does it all mean? The stars have aligned. I am on the right path. Correction: we’re on the right path. And I officially have goosebumps. 367 I’ve cooked a total of 367 recipes (what!?) from around the world. I about pass out when I read that number. Three hundred and sixty seven recipes. It’s true. …

Monday Meal Review: Latvia

THE SCENE: Birth day. Ava’s nephew. Keith’s grandson. Kaiden Ray. He is here and he is beautiful. The night he was born Ava held this oh-so-new life on her tiny lap, so amazed. Spellbound. Once a few minutes went by, she honed in on her most serious concern for this tiny being. She wanted to know if Kaiden would have toys to play with. “Kaiden have toys?” she asked Alexis, his mother. “He doesn’t need toys right now,” she smiled, still radiant the way a new mother is. “One toy.” Ava insisted, her brow furrowing in increased concern. The entire room chuckled. One toy, okay? she repeated, not seeing what was so funny. A few days later the new family went home with their little boy and we were back to our old routines. It was dinner time. We’d already had the Latvian birthday cake in honor of Kaiden. We’d already had the apple pancakes in honor of apple season. Today was simply a day for pork chops and cranberry sauce. Simple, nothing fancy. But sweet …

Monday Meal Review: Laos

THE SCENE: Getting it right “Sometimes when I eat Asian food I get sad,” Keith says. He’s leaning on the counter. This is new. Keith is not one for drama. I look at him, searching his face, wondering what past trauma has chosen to bubble up. I am bewildered. “Why?” “Because it reminds me of how long I waited to try it.” He stares at the cabinets, seeming to look through them. “Most of my life,” he quietly adds. I pause, staring at him, contemplating his handsome 41 year-old face. Is this possible? More than three decades without Asian food? “Didn’t you have egg rolls? Chinese buffets? Something…” “No, they were cabbagy. And no, not really.” I can’t help but feel a glimmer of pride, thinking back to moments earlier, when Ava, Keith and I sipped and slurped on our Foe – Laos’ epic “build your own” soup. Keith had happily lapped up his bowl of rice noodles, raw beef doused in boiling broth and loaded up with plenty of herbs. It doesn’t get more …

Monday Meal Review: Kyrgyzstan

THE SCENE: Plain words, big love. The room is quiet. I scoop another bite of Oromo into my mouth. As I chew, I think about how perfectly surprised I am to find myself loving the combination of lamb and soft sweet potatoes. I start to say something about it, but instead catch myself looking at my husband who is happily and ever so quietly eating his meal. I wonder if he likes it. “My family is a family of gushers,” I begin, forgetting about the flavor for a moment. “When a meal is presented everyone ooh’s and ahh’s. Adults trample like children at a fair simply to peer inside a casserole, or to oggle a roast with excitement. Some even applaud.” Keith laughs. “It’s good, Sash.” The truth is Keith is reserved – of another culture entirely. Whether presented with epic homemade ravioli, a crazy spiral of oromo, or a store bought peanut butter cup, his response is always the same. It’s good. He says the words with love and sincerity. Still, when the words come I find myself straining my ears, …

Monday Meal Review: Kuwait

THE SCENE: Giving up the Leg There comes a time in every mother’s life when she has to hand over the ceremonial wand, so to speak. When she must forgo eating the glorious chicken leg out of love for her daughter – her daughter who has suddenly decided that dark meat is the new bees-knees, at the ripe old age of 2.45. This was just such a week for me. Miss Ava loved the Machboos so much that she not only ate what was once “my” chicken leg, but she also ate her papa’s too. This was serious. Could it be the seasoning? The browned crackly skin? I’m not sure. But I do know that I may never sink my teeth into a chicken drummette again. I know. I was once my mother’s kid. And my brother Damien and I always took the legs. Always. Even on Thanksgiving. THE FOOD: Machboos [Recipe] What I liked most about this dish: There is genius in the Kuwaiti method of simmering, then roasting the chicken. First, it cooks much …

Monday Meal Review: Kosovo

THE SCENE: Just Getting There. Friendship is funny. Good friends don’t need much of a reason to get together. On this particular day we decided to celebrate the simple fact that I had a giant wheel of brie. Good enough. Friends gathered, wine poured, and a six person, 3 kid potluck was born (I told you I was making an effort with friends). For two entire days preceding the potluck I worked and reworked the Flija (this week’s traditional Kosovo campfire cake). The better part of 6 hours had been spent hunched over the broiler, browning dozens of layers of batter. My shoulders, my back, my thighs – everything ached. At 5:03, minutes before the first guest arrived, I pulled the flija from the broiler for the final time. It was warm, soft and smelled of tangy kefir, the yogurt-like drink so popular in eastern Europe. My mouth watered but before I could cut into the large layered cake, the doorbell rang. I quickly deposited the hot treat on a trivet and ran to the door. Exactly …

Monday Meal Review: North Korea

THE SCENE: My Happily Broken Heart A broken heart occurs when two hearts joined in love tear apart. It could happen slowly or quickly, but like a wishbone, something has to give. If it’s a clean break, it wasn’t love. At least, not for a long time. Sometimes both hearts have a tear, other times just one. Lots of times it feels like a piece was left behind, permanently affixed to the heart of the other. Keith has never broken my heart. Sure, we’ve had our disagreements but I’ve never once felt like he has pulled away enough to tear me up, to break my heart. Ava, however, broke my heart the day she was born. There she was, perfect, tiny and so wonderful. And there I was, completely awash with love. Overwhelming love. I wept as her tiny body struggled to take those first breaths of air. And then,there it was – she relaxed – her eyes darted around, taking in the light – she was with the world. That’s when the tears came full …

Monday Meal Review: South Korea

THE SCENE: My Wake Up Call I almost didn’t have anyone over for our South Korean Global Table. I was living in funk town and not sure I’d be great company. I tried to climb out of my shell – I went for a sunshiny walk and even put a smile on my face. “Fake it til you make it” says Joy the Baker. Sage advice. Still – I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: I’m a pretty shy gal. I like people and people like me, but I’m not very good at cultivating friendships – at making best friends. The last time I did it with any lasting success was in college. Something about being thrown into a stressful environment together practically guarantees lifelong friendship. To be honest, I don’t usually worry about it. I hang out with people now and then. We laugh. But at the end of the day, I spend most of my time with my wonderful husband and daughter. I go to bed happy. Last year, though, I had …