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Monday Meal Review: Estonia

THE SCENE I walked back and forth, haunting the spot where the rhubarb was supposed to be. The sign read “Rhubarb – $6.99/lb” but the bin was empty, empty, empty. Not even a week ago a mountain of lipstick red rhubarb overflowed from the bins, the first pick of the season. The clerk confirmed my fears. There was no rhubarb – not here, not in the back, not in an upcoming shipment. He explained that he had to pull the rhubarb because it was starting to turn and they couldn’t sell it any more. I was in shock, not simply because it was now gone, but also because I couldn’t believe I had expected it to be there – like mathematical certainty, like the sun would shine, or the earth rotate. Ava was getting antsy. She squirmed around in the sportscar shopping cart, and struggled to reach a package of “booboos” (blueberries). I put the package in our cart and we took off – per the clerk’s suggestion – to the frozen fruit department. I …

Estonians drink their bread

Dear readers, I’d like to introduce you to Estonian black bread. The solution to long, never ending winters. The solution to short winters. And, as I like to imagine, the solution to Miss Ava’s terrible, no good, wickedly bad days. Unfortunately, even if she wanted to eat a slice of the dark, rye-based bread, poor Miss Ava couldn’t. She is teething something terrible. She literally hurts so much that… 1. I must hold her at all times. Preferably in cradle-hold. 2. If I shift my body so much as an inch, she cries uncontrollably. It’s not so much a wail, as extended whimpering. 3. The mere thought of eating makes her cry. 4. About every fifteen minutes her sweet hand goes up to cradle her poor cheek and she looks at me with big, wet eyes. 5. Then I cry. Believe it or not, Estonians have a solution – Ava can have bread without eating bread. She can drink it. The drink is called Kali/Kvass, and is made from a mixture of black bread fermented …

About the food of Estonia

After countless shots of pristine forests, glistening lakes, and hug-able medieval buildings, there he was. A nude man. In the snow. Welcome to Estonia – where the beauty of the outdoors is celebrated and, as I unexpectedly learned this morning, nude men pop up in goofy beer ads. A Le Coq is an Estonian brewery that makes everything from beer, to soda, to juices. They are the most popular drink company in Estonia, tracing back more than a century. Which, I suppose, is why I happened upon several A Le Coq ads while searching youtube for Estonian food and tourism videos. Whoops. While good for a chuckle, the ad gave me the chills. After all, the man is bare-bottomed in the snow. By the looks of it, he’s standing in real snow. I’d like to think his Estonian diet was instrumental in giving him the fortitude to stand there for 30 seconds in a foot of fluffy-white. With that assumption, let’s take a look at the Estonian food that might have sustained him through his cold …

Monday Meal Review: Eritrea

THE SCENE “It’s alive!” my sister gasped. I chuckled, shrugging off the suggestion as a joke. “No look!” she said, pointing into the bowl. I brought my face closer. Just wait, she said. Bloop. Bloop. Two bubbles wiggled their way to the surface, making the blackish, scuzzy liquid quiver slightly. The scent of alcohol and yeast clung to the air. It is alive, I said, “and it smells really … strong!” “It’s totally teff” she said. We recoiled, laughing. Neither of us was sure what to do next. I scanned through the pile of injera recipes that littered the counter tops while Elisa sipped her wine. A few of the recipes suggested pouring off the liquid. Several didn’t mention it. There was no question that I would be pouring it down the drain. There was just no way that liquid was supposed to be part of the injera. Not any injera I’d be eating, anyway. As I tipped the bowl over the sink, I had the creepy, crawly feeling that I was about to dump the …

Italian Eritrea?? (poll)

I like a good surprise. Like when a nun wears pink socks. Or when a not-so-promising movie is actually funny, but – and this is very important – only because you had supremely low expectations (Men who Stare at Goats, anyone?). Consider Eritrea – a hot African land that enjoys injera, spicy berberé seasoning, and lentil wat (stew) – all regionally appropriate. All very expected. Then, look down at Eritrea’s proverbial pink socks, a.k.a. a burst of Italy in an otherwise traditional African nation. In the capital, Asmara, you can sip on a cappuccino and admire the colonial architecture – designed to resemble Italian villas as well as European art deco structures. The Fiat Tagliero gas station is even made to look like an airplane. More than 50,000 colonizers set up their lives in Eritrea, so it is no wonder they eventually called their new home “Little Rome.” Not bad for pink socks! ** Photos courtesy of Carsten ten Brink and Hans van der Splinter (who has a web site devoted to showing the world the beauty …

About the food of Eritrea

Think Emeril Lagasse knows how to “kick it up a notch?” Check out the food of Eritrea, nestled on the northeastern side of Africa. This hot, dry land holds claim to spicy, deeply seasoned foods very similar to its neighbor, Ethiopia. Eritreans kick it up with berberé [Recipe] – a spice blend made with loads of chili powder, cumin, fenukgreek, cinnamon and half a dozen other spices. Rather than vigorously dusting it on top of the food and shouting “bam!”, the people stir spoonful after spoonful into their meals. If you use as much as a local… well, expect tears. Berberé amps up nearly all dishes, including stewed chicken, lamb, and beef. Even more common than all that meat? Spicy lentils [Recipe] and chickpeas. (Side note – while they have a lengthy shoreline, most fish is exported for consumption) Regardless of what you put berberé on, know this: it will make you sweat. Finger food, anyone? In Eritrea, plates are covered up – blanketed – by the mighty injera, a giant pocked flatbread/pancake made with …

Monday Meal Review: Equatorial Guinea

THE SCENE: A thick strand of ooze connected my spoon to the serving bowl. I wiped it up quickly, before mounding the spiced okra onto Ava’s plate. She looked at the dark green mountain. She looked at me, shook her head, and signed for more fish. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Try the okra, Ava,” I said, cloaking my desperation with a cheerful voice. “Okra. Okra.” I repeated, slowly. I pointed to the plate and smiled. “Try it!” We watched her. We waited. Ava scrunched up her nose and shook her head again. She pushed her food around a little, then squealed with delight. Goldmine! She found another piece of fish, hiding behind the okra. She popped it into her mouth and smiled. One more time I offered her a bite. Just in case. Again, she shook her head but, instead of saying no, she said – clear as day – “Okwa! Okwa. Okwa!” We applauded her new word and encouraged her to say it a few more times. She did, beaming and grinning. She was so happy …

Squirrels, Elephant Ears, and Equatorial Guinea (w/ Poll)

Tulsa seems to be channeling a little bit of Equatorial Guinea. After record-breaking snowstorms, the sky is blue, the air is warm, love birds are chirping, and a squirrel is peering at me over a fence. He’s wondering where the 14 inches of snow went. And why the trees are budding in February. The one thing he doesn’t have to worry about, however, is being dinner. I’m not interested and my cats are way too slow. In Equatorial Guinea, Mr Squirrel might be faced with a different fate. In the countryside, anything that moves is liable to become dinner – although gorillas and monkeys are now off limits. But what about veggies? The people of Equatorial Guinea also eat their veggies. One of the more interesting is the malanga – a tuber with leafy greens that came over with Cubans. Apparently in the 19th century, when slaves and political prisoners were freed from Cuba, many landed in Equatorial Guinea. They brought their malanga with them and the rest is history. Have you heard of elephant ears? …

About the food of Equatorial Guinea

My riding instructor invited me hunting when I was 15 years old. The thought of riding through France’s foggy woods seemed romantic, adventurous, and disarmingly elite. I desperately wanted to say yes, but I had a squeamish feeling I just couldn’t shake. Bottom line? I didn’t want to kill my dinner and I didn’t want to watch other people kill their dinner. Thankfully, I didn’t have to. I was surrounded by supermarkets, cafes, street vendors, and – just down from our house – carrot and mushroom farms. I could eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I said no. The closest I ever got to hunting was to pluck a carrot from the farm. Illegally. It was the biggest carrot I’d ever seen but, thanks to a lack of running water and guilt, it tasted like dirt. In Equatorial Guinea, killing dinner is not always a choice. The rural people are known for hunting and fishing for their dinners because this is the cheapest and most available way to eat. Whole fish [Recipe], crustaceans, and various …

Monday Meal Review: El Salvador

THE SCENE My first mistake was getting out of bed. My second? Thinking I could cook my way through El Salvador on a stomach bug. There’s something inherently ridiculous about stumbling around the kitchen in pajamas, cooking enough food for a party, the very smell of which is hard to process, yet also insisting on taking photos for the world to see. I mean, really. And then, every fifteen minutes, I just had to call my mom about the latest weird gurgle coming from my stomach. She did a decent job of calming me down – she said it was all going to be ok, just eat some yogurt. You know, to help build up my tummy’s “live active cultures.” Which sounded terrible, yuck, no good… but, hey, it works. Hours later I’d survived El Salvador but – when the last pot was put away – I was pretty sure I’d never get out of bed again. Eventually, however, I did get out of bed again. Why? To eat the leftovers. After all – stomach bug or not – …

Drinking & Dancing in El Salvador

Elegance turns to a sloppy muddled mess in the Salvadoran danza de los chapetones. On purpose. For giggles. The satirical dance begins with thirteen dancers, 12 men and a woman. All are elegantly dressed – the men represent Spanish nobles, wearing suits with fancy hats, the woman represents the Spanish queen, wearing a crown and white wedding dress. Which all makes sense once you realize El Salvador was once a Spanish colony. The satire begins as a waltz, wickedly exaggerated. As the dance continues, the queen tipples chicha into the dancer’s cups – a sweet local booze made from maize, panela, and pineapple – over and over again. With each sip the dance becomes sloppier, rowdier, and – eventually – downright wild. Have you ever had chicha? If not, would you try it? Source: Lonely Planet & others Photos: Folklor de El Salvador, Dtarazona

About the food of El Salvador

Do you like colorful birds? What about ruins – ancient, gothic, and colonial? Step right this way. Meet El Salvador, a tiny country freckled with mighty volcanoes, thickly coated by lush tropics, and so much more. In this steamy dreamland, I discovered a theme: corn. First, there’s pupusa – thick corn flour (masa) based tortillas stuffed with cheese, meat, or beans. Pupusas [Recipe] are often served with a bright, vinegary scoop of curtido [Recipe], or cabbage slaw, and fresh salsa. Then, there’s a corn drink called atol [Recipe]. Made with fresh corn, sugar, cinnamon and milk, it’s so rich you’ll think you’re drinking sweet custard, and you’ll be just as happy. And, finally, let’s not forget riguas, a moist mixture of corn (rather like tamales), spooned onto a banana leaf and griddled until firm enough to handle. Whew. And then there’s the produce. Mounds and mounds of gorgeous tropical goodness. Vivid. Fresh. Fabulous. Just look at this lady. She knows she’s got a good thing going on. Still hungry? No worries. There’s more at the Salvadorian …