There are three ways to avoid the awkward party phenomenon. 1. You can get to the party early enough to snag a good seat on the couch. 2. You can bring a friend (it’s a well documented fact that, if you have a friend at your side, you’ll have someone to talk to when you don’t feel like dancing, someone to laugh with when you do feel like dancing, and someone to make sure you don’t do anything silly during the twilight zone part of the party). 3. Then there’s these rolls. Oh boy. Show up to a party with steaming hot Portuguese rolls filled with chorizo sausage and not only will you have something to hold onto when you’re not sure what to do with yourself, you’ll draw a crowd. People think bread is so hard to make, but the secret is you just pile everything into a bowl or standing mixer, mix it up, and let it sit for an hour and half. Then you shape it, let it rest and bake. Done! …
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At any given moment I’m an arm’s reach from my cellphone. It’s not just a phone, it’s a laptop, a GPS, and – when my daughter tells it “I love you” – a female voice replies with almost lifelike bashfulness “You are sweet.” Frankly, I’m frightened. That’s why, when I receive mail – real mail, bundled up in cardboard and clear packing tape – I get so excited. Cardboard boxes don’t talk back. The postage stamp doesn’t double as a GPS when I’m fifteen minutes late for a show. It simply sits there, until I open it. The best possible mystery. The way it should be. This week, Global Table Adventure received a package from my mom which tickled my funny bone in the most delightful way. This is reason #3,568,999 why my mom is so special. Ava, who was as curious as I was, tore out the sheets of crinkly tissue paper to reveal a heavy duty heart-shaped bowl, small pitcher, and a covered sugar bowl. The bottom of each bowl read “Handmade in Poland.” …
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Sometimes we need a do over. A chance to get it right. And a little forgiveness. Because in every mishap is a silver lining. Especially when it comes to sweet, crumbly dulce de leche filled alfajores – the popular South American cookie. One bite instantly dissolves on the tongue into a cloud of tender lemon zest deliciousness. Divine. But back to forgiveness. Specifically, I need to forgive my sweet, bumbling husband for being so thoughtful as to fill up the cooler with ice for our 3 1/2 hour road trip, yet being so forgetful as to overlook returning the cookie dough to the cooler. I need to let go of the grief that the cookie dough rode in the bed of our pickup truck, saran wrap in the wind, balanced precariously on top of my red suitcase, all the way to our family vacation in Beaver’s Bend. And I need to accept that, because it was 100F and sunny, the cookie dough could never be cooked. In situations like this, it’s all about the silver …
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I like a little mystery in the midst of routine. A drizzle of scented massage oil makes the evening fly by. A simple puff of incense fills every crevice of my home with glorious serenity. And of all possible aromas, Frankincense reigns supreme. Ever since I was a little girl, poised with wonder under the glittering Christmas tree, Frankincense has captivated me. My little brain could never quite grasp what on earth Frankincense was or why it was so special, but that didn’t stop me from dreaming of the magical era when a gift of Frankincense was as beloved as gold. In fact, the mystery only made it seem more special. Then, thundering in from the far reaches of Oman comes Frankincense Ice Cream. Each nibble is creamy and sweet – Frankincense has an alluring bite of pine, sweet ginger, something like orange zest, and foggy twilight smiles. In my research I learned that Frankincense is resin (a.k.a. dried sap) from the Boswellia tree. The highest quality flows creamy white and is called luban, meaning …
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When I woke up yesterday I had no intention of losing my wedding rings. In the morning I hugged Malky the cat and Ava, my daughter. In the afternoon, I did a silly dance with the curtains wide open, daring my neighbors to judge me. Around five o’clock I indulged in a green bottle of bubbly water while sitting by a glittering summer-filled window. I felt the heat (110F in the shade) radiate on my face and I smiled, happy to be inside. I fidgeted with my rings, as I often do whenever happy thoughts cross my mind. Two hours later, Ava’s bedtime arrived. I carefully placed my rings on the coffee table to lotion up my hands. Ava singsonged across the room, her entire body full of giggles, and asked if she could try the rings on. I nodded with a smile and she tossed them on her tiny fingers. She said, while dangling her bejeweled hand out in front of her, “I’m mama. What you want? I cook you something.” I remember laughing and I remember …
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There are a few ways to keep cool in hot weather. In the west, we wear shorts, drink cold drinks, and blast the A/C. In Niger, they use a completely different set of tricks. The polar opposite, in fact. For starers, they cover up. Believe it or not, wearing long layers made of lightweight cotton keeps the sun’s hot rays off your skin. The flowing movement of the fabric acts like natural air conditioning. The elephants accomplish the same thing by dusting themselves with dirt. Not quite as desirable if you have somewhere nice to go. There’s one other trick to staying cool in Niger. Drinking hot tea. While it sounds like it’d make an already hot day feel like an inferno, it is the opposite. The hot liquid makes you perspire… and the tiny beads of sweat catch the slightest breeze, cooling you off. That’s what our tour guide in Tunisia told me, anyway (they do the same thing all over North Africa). All you do is splash hot water over green tea and… a …
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Today we’re traveling to the sandy, dusty plateaus of of Southern Africa where you’ll find the Veldt – large expanses of wilderness, often filled with scrubby bushes and the occasional scraggly tree. Here, too, you’ll find prowling lions, circling scavenger birds, and hearty veldt bread – which pretty much means bread of the wild. According to the World Cookbook for Students, this quickbread was created by European settlers as a way to nourish themselves with familiar ingredients in an unfamiliar land. Since it’s leavened with baking powder, there’s no long rise time – just pop in the oven (or over a campfire) and chow down. No muss, no fuss. Spices like ginger, cinnamon and cloves give this rugged, dense “wheaty” bread a lovely lift. Much like Irish soda bread, Veldt bread tastes best when steaming hot, slathered with butter. So go ahead, set up camp by a Namibian sunset and enjoy a slice. Makes 1 loaf Ingredients: 3 1/2 cups whole wheat flour 1 1/2 tsp baking powder 1/2 tsp salt 3 Tbsp brown sugar 1/2 …
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Oh, goodness. Where do I even begin? Do you see that honey dripping off the edge of the crater cakes? Each drop is perfumed with the haunting aroma of orange blossom water and butter. Hello. I mean, really. I’m pretty sure I can just pack up and go home now. My job is done. Talk about good-glorious-eats! But, for those few who aren’t yet sure if this Moroccan treat – officially called Beghrir – is right for their breakfast table, let me continue. These semolina pancakes aren’t really pancakes. They are fried on one side only. The other side is utterly soft and yeasty, and pocked with thousands of holes. The bottom is crispy, while the top is light and airy. They’re like a crumpet’s long lost cousin. The holes are perfect for catching pools of orange blossom honey sauce, by the way. While some like them almost as thin as crepes and as large as a dinner plate, you can also make them smaller and a bit on the thicker side, as I did. The choice is yours. For …
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I’ve been putting off making couscous. I don’t mean the boxed, nearly instant kind – I make that fairly often. What I’m tackling today is delicate, fluffy steamed couscous. The kind you buy in the bulk bin. The kind that fluffs up like a dream. According to Clifford A. Wright, steaming the tiny pearls twice, sometimes three times, is the “only” way to make proper couscous. Color me intrigued. While we’ve cooked many countries that enjoy couscous (Libya and Algeria for example), I put off making authentic couscous because I was… well… afraid of failure. I have a tendency to do that when it comes to trying something new. I dance around challenge, especially when I’m tired. However, on quiet rainy days, when there is nothing else to do, I feel braver. Like I can accomplish anything. Be anything. That’s when I’m most likely to buckle down and go for it in the kitchen. It’s like there’s a cloudy cushion surrounding me, making it okay. Turns out, Clifford A. Wright is on the same wavelength. He suggests, …
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For some reason I’m having a hard time telling you about this pie. It’s so familiar and yet so exotic. So comforting, yet so classy. Something so obvious and lovely, yet nothing I’d ever heard of before. . Think pecan pie, but more toothsome. Think honey sweetened, and coconut enriched. Think clouds of whipped cream spiked with coconut milk. Think tropical elegance. . I take a bite. I shut my eyes and feel a breeze. And, just like that, I’m in the Marshall Islands. . Like most countries in the Pacific, the Marshall Islands is known for importing much of their pantry ingredients. While Macadamia nuts aren’t Marshallese per se, the rich nut goes perfectly with local coconut. Bottom line: it’s one heck of a pie. . Note: I am 110 countries into this Adventure and, yet, this is the first time I’ve made pie. That’s not to say there isn’t pie all over this great big world. And I suppose the empanadas I made (both sweet and savory) are a variation on the theme – after all, they …
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