Marrakech Express

Jacob and I are headed, along with some fellow students, to Marrakech. This will be our first weekend trip away and also our first Moroccan train experience. Jacob traveled once before, however, to Marrakech along with his bud and best man/Kingsman, Matt Kelley.

Look for new photos and tales after the weekend and enjoy yours!

Marrakech Express

Jacob and I are headed, along with some fellow students, to Marrakech. This will be our first weekend trip away and also our first Moroccan train experience. Jacob traveled once before, however, to Marrakech along with his bud and best man/Kingsman, Matt Kelley.

Look for new photos and tales after the weekend and enjoy yours!

Carb Addict

Once again, and gladly, I'll revisit my statement on Moroccans and their bread. I am in carb heaven here--bread served with every meal--and I will bring this dedication and pleasure with me to Oman and back home where I will seek to banish the name Atkins from our cultural vernacular!
Two recipes today, again in dinner party proportion, but this time I'll share the recipe for Layla's Khobz (bread) as well as Addis (lentils, here they are small and pea-like and grey-green in color). Khobz can be purchased at Marjane (Morocco's chain of hyper-not super-markets) as well as the central market and any hanut (tiny little closet shops on the sides of the streets) you may pass. None I've tasted can compare with Layla's, a combination of her skill, practice and family recipe, but until I can get the hang of breadmaking, I'll have to stick to the hanut fare (or beg Layla).

Addis is also a common food and is served at many sidewalk cafes (always with Khobz and usually also with cayenne pepper). It's nourishing, but also tasty, easy to make and cheap--to make or buy. In fact, many Moroccans call it "end of the month" food because it's what they make at the end of the month when they've spent up their food budgets already!

Addis (or Lentils)

3 3/4 c lentils
1 purple onion, finely chopped

2 tomatoes, halved and grated

8 cloves of garlic, grated

6 sprigs parsely, finely chopped (ends of stems removed)

6 sprigs cilantro, finely chopped (ends of stems removed)

2 1/2 T Paprika

1 t salt

1 t black pepper

1/4 t Moroccan saffron

1 t cumin

1/2 c olive oil

1/4 c vegetable oil

12-13 c water

Prepare lentils by first checking for stones or twigs, wash well in a collander or strainer and pour into a large pot. Grate tomato halves and garlic into pot on top of lentils, add all other ingredients and set to boil on stove, covered. Once boiling, partially cover and allow to cook for about 1 hour, checking on liquid levels. If the lentils are becoming too thick, add a bit of water to preserve consistency.

Serves ~8

Khobz

1/2 K white flour (1 Kilo=2/2 Pounds)

3/4 K fine corn flour (divided about 1/2 K and 1/4 K)

3 1/2 c warm water (divided 3 c and 1/2 c for later)

3 1/2 T active fresh yeast (follow link for information on yeast and conversions)

1/2 t salt

Put white flour on your cooking surface (a board, a shallow smooth bowl, a marble slab) and then also put 1/2 K of corn flour with the white flour, also add yeast. Slowly, pour a little water on the elements and begin to mix by hand, adding more water when it is absorbed. When you've added about 2 1/2 or 3/4 c, begin to knead the dough. Don't forget to fold and turn the dough, being sure to cover all areas, ocassionally adding more water as needed in sprinkles, may use/need the other 1/2 c warm water). Add 1/2 t salt and a bit more water, continue kneading and sprinkle water when sticky. Poke or prod dough to test readiness. It should spring back and not be too sticky.

Prepare another part of your surface by sprinkling some of the divided, remaining corn flour on it. When the dough has used nearly all the water and springs back at touch, use a slight bit of water to pinch off a handful of dough and gently press in between hands into a ball-like loaf, then place it on the surface. Gather corners of ball in a slight kneading/tucking motion toward the center of the bread and then place that side down on the surface (it should be about 3 1/2 inches in diameter). Set aside on a clean towel. Continue until dough is loaved.

Begin to prepare loaves by taking them, one by one, to the floured surface and pressing them flat with the heel of your hand until they are about 8" in diameter. As you are pressing them out, be sure to flour as needed including flipping and flouring the other side to prevent sticking. Set aside on a clean towel. Continue until dough is flattened and then allow loaves to sit and rise for about 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to about 350 or 375 (this is an unscientific temperature because our oven here does not have any temperature settings, only a lone dial with no kind of indicators...)

Place one or two dough loaves on a baking sheet and, using a fork, poke about 5 holes in the loaves. Bake for about 15 minutes, watching to be sure they are cooking evenly, they should be golden brown when finished.

Yield ~8 loaves

Layla's Tagine

Tagine is another common Moroccan food. It seems to be a hybrid between a stew and a slow-cooker meal. Absolutely delicious, easy and serves quite a few. North African comfort food!

Tagine, the dish, is named for the pottery vessel in which it is sometimes cooked (usually for fewer than 12, though), the function of which is similar to a dutch oven, but it is used on stove top instead of in the oven. It's a common food here and the recipes vary to include all kinds of meats, fish, veggies and sometimes grains such as rice. The photo above is a lamb and date tagine, a traditional form. In some of the restaurants here wishing to cater to travelers, you may find ingredients such as french fries piled on top of the meat and veggies, though!

Even though it's not a common food in the states, you can purchase more technically-advanced variations made by reliable companies such as LeCruset. The recipe below is suggested to be cooked in a large pot (similar to a stock pot, but wider), due to the volume of ingredients. It can, of course, be cut down.

2 1/2 Kilo (K) chicken or beef (1 Kilo = 2.2 Pounds)

3 chopped onions

1 tomato peeled, grated

1 head minced or shredded garlic

12 stems corriander (cilantro) chopped

1 teaspoon Moroccan saffron

2 tablespoons black pepper

2 1/2 tablespoons powdered ginger

Salt, to taste

1/2 cup vegetable oil

1/2 cup olive oil

1/2 cup water

Boil all above ingredients in large pot for 15-20 minutes. Then add:

10 medium carrots, peeled and sliced

10 medium white turnips, peeled and sliced

5 medium potatoes, peeled and sliced

10 small zucchini, sliced

Add water to reach just above the level of the ingredients. Simmer on medium to high heat for about 1 hour. Serve with bread.

Serves ~ 12

The first impressions

For those who might have missed these on facebook, I'll also be utilizing Picasa to load photos of Morocco to the web. These are the first impression shots. It's amazing, the time that lapsed between when we arrived and when I first posted these provided a buffer that made these once-intimidating new places much more comfortable. As I glance at them again now, they're downright familiar and comforting.

First Impressions

Jacob's Birthday

Meknes and Volubulis

Lucky Number (2)7

I think I owe an explanation for the whole "27" thing. At least, why exactly I always knew 27 was going to be my year and why I, like George McFly about Lorriane, felt: "It was my density that brought me to you." I did put the whole 27 thing in the header, after all.

The credit for this particular quirk of mine, and the story behind it really belongs to my mom who coined it and without whom, I'm sure, I wouldn't even remember it. So, for this as many things: thanks mom.

The story goes that, as a child, I was always talking (in full sentences, with proper grammar and vocabulary)...and generally to adults. Those who know me are not surprised at this particular revelation (some things never change, folks), so I'll thank you all very much to just listen to the story and reserve your comments for the comments section (Aha! But it's my blog, so you have to! This is great! I could just go on for as long as I want about any old thing and you'd have to...ahem, I digress).

These unsuspecting adults upon whom my verbal outpourings were bestowed would invariably glance up, perplexed, at my mother and ask, "How old is she?" My mother (sometimes with pride, sometimes with a roll of the eyes, I'd imagine) would say, "Oh, she's three going on 27", "Seven going on 27", "12 going on 27" and so on. You can imagine how, as the years progressed, this age, this magical time, became the source of much yearning and expectation. Its mystery occupied my mind than the more common ages and their obvious trappings: 13, 16, 18, 21. I had no idea what 27 would bring, but I always knew it would be great. I had no idea.

The years ticked on, many with multiple landmarks. All the standards, plus college graduation and first career job at 21, purchase of first home at 23 and, even more, scads of wonderful friends, great memories and deepening familial relationships along the way. The waning of momentum in certain times seemed only to uniquely prepare me for the next acceleration. In some ways, 25 and 26 were tough uphill struggles, with the engine of my little rollercoaster train click-click-clicking up the last few feet of track before a big plunge.

It only occured to me late-August of this year just what was approaching. I'd been so comfortably and excitedly wrapped up in Jacob and our romance that I'd forgotten the pending landmark until it presented itself in the form of a fortune from a favorite Thai restaurant. Jacob was home for a weekend visit from South Carolina and when I cracked the cookie, I was pleased with a fortune that stated, "You will have much to be thankful for in the coming year." "Well, that's nice," I thought. "How pleasant." And then I turned it over and my lucky number was 27. Now, I am not a person who reads into talismans, fortunes or horoscopes. In fact, that fortune could apply to any of a hundred thousand people who walked into that restaurant. But it did have the lucky number 27 on the back, and I'll tell you something: I do believe in divine intervention and a master plan by a wonderfully loving God. I still have the fortune if you want to see it sometime. It's packed away in a memory box in my mom's attic.

From then on, it was my thought and renewed conviction. "This is going to be my year," I'd think and say. "27 is going to be so great." Jacob, having hatched a plot not only to get me to marry him, but also accompany him abroad, would agree , smiling and shaking his head. "Yep, 27 is going to be your year," he'd say. "You have no idea."

Being the individualistic and determinedly independent person I had become accustomed to being, it never occured to me that 27 would involve anyone's density but my own. I was wrong.

So, on September 13, he proposed, I accepted and we began the glorious task of finding a date which, as some of you know, happened to be December...that's right...27. One month ago today, I married the man of my dreams and began the crazy adventures of marriage, moving and a new life--at the perfectly ripe age of 27.

The truth is, I don't really believe in fortunes and, while density is fun, I'm not sure it finds contribution from a cookie. I am certain that I was supposed to end up where I am right now, with the person I married, and that it's a part of a plan that was set in place before I was even born by the One who created me.

Maybe the 27 part was just for fun.

Wedded Bliss

A few of the favorite shots from our wedding. From top left, getting ready, through ceremony, reception, friends, family and, at bottom left, the work of the lovely and talented Michelle Young, professional photographer, former roommate, fishing buddy and traveling companion. Click on the collage to see an album.

He who eats alone chokes alone

One of the things I've noticed about Morocco is the groupfood. Many of the dishes are made in large batches and designed to nourish large gatherings. The food is indicative of the culture in that way. Here, as in some other countries--though certainly not the states--there is a rest in the middle of the day. From about noon until three, families retire home for the main meal of the day. Meals also seem often to be shared with friends and extended family.

Gone are the home-favored individualistic dishes of four mini-burgers on a platter, here they are replaced by great cauldrons of fragrant, warming soups; giant platters of cous cous overflowing in small avalanches onto waiting plates; and steaming, saucy tagines, to name a few. There is no such name here as Atkins, to the delight of my carbohydrate-loving soul. Warm bread is served with every meal.

Naturally, food is one of the first things upon which the weary traveler stumbles and, Morocco has been a pleasure so far. As Jacob pursues his Arabic language studies, I've been learning a thing or two about cultural studies on my own--actually, I've been learning along with the several other students who meet regularly for Moroccan cooking classes, conducted by the ever-patient Layla.

Aside from the unique constructions and recipes, eating here in Fez has been enriching in another way. If I was a wannabe-locavore before (eating foods from locally-produced origins), my chrysalis is nearly complete. Here, you shop at the central market from local vendors for produce, almost all of it carted in by hand. Fishmongers demonstrate a limited, if still unique variety of seafood and the butcher shops boast quite fresh offerings including lamb, beef, poultry of many kinds (but no pork!). Olives literally grow on trees here and are harvested, brined, flavored and sold in myriad varieties. Dates, figs and spices are also plentiful and nearly unlimited. Just about the only imported thing is cheese (and some selections from Marjane--the Moroccan equivalent of WalMart and the last-ditch for homey comfort foods like Uncle Ben's Rice and cereals).

One of my favorite recipes so far is a great snack food and easy to make. It's similar to a cornbread (although it's made with Semolina) and is generally eaten with butter and honey or jam.

Layla's Harcha
1 Kilo Semolina Flour
2 tsp. Salt
1 tsp. Baking Soda
1/2 cup Vegetable Oil
2 cups Water

In a bowl, mix flour, salt, baking soda, and vegetable oil. Then add water, mixing until dough becomes a ball (but not too wet).Split dough into 4 balls of equal size.Press one ball of dough into a 1/4" thick circle in an un-greased skillet. Cook over low flame for approximately 8 minutes per side (checking to make sure it browns lightly, but does not burn). Repeat for 3 other balls of dough. Top with honey or butter and serve.

The beginning of the end

It's hard to say exactly where it started. That is, neither Jacob nor I could tell you definitively the first time we met. I have vague recollections of a glancing moment at a social event or Sunday school class, he remembers me from my cafeteria-lady-day at the Tates Creek Presbyterian Church 4th of July picnic (who knew that donning plastic gloves and a ponytail to serve fried chicken could be such a winning endeavor?). One thing we did know back then, just about a year and a half ago, we could never date. We decided this on a hot afternoon while suiting up for our first skydives--a spontaneous Sunday afternoon had taken us, along with another friend, out to a Kentucky drop zone (left) to pursue the first of what would be many adventures together.

Months later, Jacob seemed the perfect solution for my partner problem. A dancing partner, I mean. Having just started a new job as the editor of Lexington's Chevy Chaser and Southsider magazines the first of January, 2008, I found myself browsing through community calendar listings and came across an entry for an Argentine Tango class at Artsplace. Jacob had two distinct qualifications: he had moves and he had no moves. That is to say, he had ballroom experience and he'd never tried to ask me out. It was the perfectly platonic scenario, or so I thought.

After six weeks of class and extended evenings, Jacob finally made that move. Somehow it still surprised me when he told me just what was on his mind and I found myself unprepared (as I would many times throughout our short courtship), but made the decision that started in motion the beginning of the end. Knowing that he was leaving for graduate school in South Carolina and, eventually, an 18-month educational jaunt abroad, I'm not sure I knew what I was getting into. Then again, I'm not sure he knew what he was getting into, either.

May 31 marked both the wedding day of my now-sister-and-brother-in-law, Caris and Rick, and Jacob's and my first date. From there, it was literally a whirlwind of dates and decisions as we began our relationship and Jacob left for graduate school in South Carolina at the end of June. By mid-September we were engaged and by Jacob's Christmas break from school, we were immersed in last-minute details of a wedding, a home sale, an overseas move and a job transition.

If someone had asked me a year ago if I would be married right now, not to mention overseas, I'd have laughed out loud. If someone had told me how it would happen, who it would be and how quickly it would go, I wouldn't have believed it. If someone had told me I'd willingly leave a job I loved, a home I'd made for myself and my dog, well, I'd be slightly indignant.

But you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way.