Silliness


My husband S. is a wacky man. He tends to say silly things and compose songs off the top of his head. This was one of the things that I first fell in love with, way back when. It reminded me of my own father when I was little and how he used to sing nonsensical songs to us in the car about the cows or a dog or some girl he was "huggin’ and a caulkin’" (an actual song as it turns out).

One of S.’s favorite pastimes is pretending that our cat, Jasmine, talks and sings. Yes, it’s true. He sings songs in our cat’s "voice", usually making up the crazy lyrics as he goes. Jasmine has had great success with such hits as "I love My Mom", a cover of "Lean on Me" and most recently, "Jelly’s Cute, Jasmine’s Pretty".

Most people wouldn’t think that S. had this sort of frivolity inside of him, and to be honest sometimes I forget it’s there myself. To look at him he’s just a normal guy; quite intelligent and not overly outgoing most of the time. He’s silly with his son and affectionate with me but with most other people he is pretty quiet. But catch him at home after he’s had even just a little bit of sugar and watch out. Jelly starts getting hung from the rafters, Leith gets thrown up and down in the air and Jasmine starts to sing.

Last night she made up a new song – one that I can’t seem to get out of my head today. Every time I look in the fridge at the leftovers from last night’s dinner the song pops back into my head. It’s driving me a bit crazy.

Mom, I feel like heck tonight
There is no food for me to bite
You are the one who makes me calm
Are you stroganoff to be my mom?

There’s nothing in my bowl tonight
Somehow I think that can’t be right
You know I think you are the bomb —
Are you stroganoff to be my mom?

(Sung to the tune of "Are You Strong Enough" by Sheryl Crowe)

Dinner in Amman



While in Amman, S’s uncle took us to an incredible restaurant, Reem Al-Bawadi. A traditional Jordanian restaurant, known for its tasty food and great atmosphere, we had a fantastic time and some even more fantastic food.

First of all it’s a huge restaurant, about the size of a Toronto city block. You walk in to this cavernous hallway where there are men playing drums, a woman serving Turkish coffee and another making the traditional, large, thin flat pancake-like bread/pita which is served with dinner. Leith had a wonderful time looking at everything and everyone, including his first sight of a sheep (real but stuffed and mounted) and a cow (head only). He literally stood there pointing at them saying “Moo” and “Maa” and would have happily done that for hours if we had let him.

Leaving the enormous entry-way and entering the restaurant was akin to stepping back in time and into culture at the same time. Sitting in the restaurant is like sitting in one gigantic luxurious Bedouin tent. You sit at a huge, very low to the ground table that has a big tray set into the middle of it. S’s uncle ordered and that tray was soon filled with delicious appetizers…Hommos, Labaneh, Tabbouleh, Baba Ghnooj, Stuffed Grape Leaves, Kebbeh and some Cheese Samosas. Of course, I was full after the appetizers, which always happens to me, I can’t help it.

Then dinner arrived, again ordered by S’s uncle. There were plates and plates of Kabab and as well (I think ordered specifically for me since I mentioned that I like fish) grilled fish. The fish was probably the best I have had in my life (maybe even better than when I used to catch fish up at my cottage and grill it fresh from the lake). The waiter brought the whole, grilled fish to the table, de-boned it in front of us (I think there were actually 4 plates of fish), squeezed some lemon on it and presented it to those of us who wanted it. Once I had had S. dispose of the head for me, I quickly dug in, forgetting how full I was moments ago. I ate the whole plate myself and could have eaten more if there had been any. I later asked my mother-in-law how they cook it, if they put anything in particular on it…she told me it’s just salt and pepper and lemon juice and a bit of oil. You can bet I’ll be buying whole fish at the market sometime soon and making it for S. and I.

After dinner, coffee is served by a man in a strangely familiar uniform (I’m sure I’ve seen it in a movie at some point). I love the tradition and culture the place is steeped in, from the atmosphere to the music (they put on a “show” mid-dinner with a traditional wedding drum dance) to the food. Some people might find this sort of experience hokey but I just sat back, watched the smile on my husband’s face and enjoyed one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time.

Shukran Khalo Sulayman.

Home, Again

I guess you deserve an explanation as to why I have been absent for two weeks…I have received more than a few frantic emails asking where I am and if I am okay. I am fine and my absence was not health-related this time, thank goodness.

We (S., Leith and I) just returned (yesterday) from a trip to
Kuwait City
and Amman, Jordan. Recovering slowly from the jet-lag and the awful head cold I managed to catch on the way there has kept me busy since arriving home. I promise to be back in the kitchen cooking and baking up a storm in the next few days.

The trip was fantastic; one I will never forget. Kuwait City was much nicer than I had been expecting and also much bigger than you’d think, considering how tiny the country looks next to Saudi Arabia and Iraq. We did a lot of shopping, some sight-seeing and entirely too much eating (if that is indeed possible). Of course the food was fabulous – from a bag of steaming Falafel from a street vendor to gourmet Iranian and Indian food in the roof-top Sheraton restaurants, I couldn’t ask for a better foodie experience. Leith fell in love with freshly-made strawberry juice while we were there, and also the concept of "more" was learned quite quickly by him…as the waiters spoiled him non-stop.

We spent one night in a chalet on the shore, about an hour outside downtown Kuwait City. There Leith got to stick his feet in the Persian Gulf, ride a horse, take a trip on a train and eat hot, freshly made gooey cheese-filled and Zatar-covered Fatayer in a tent made of Camel Hair.

On to Amman, Jordan, where S’s parents have a flat in which we stayed for an all-too-short four days. The Kunafah (phyllo spread with soft cheese, topped with more shredded phyllo and a thick sugar syrup poured on top), which they are known for, was scrumptious…I could have eaten a whole sheet-pan. We brought home some really delicious Baklava for my sister and sustained ourselves through the very (very, very) long flight home with Fatayer and other scrumptious pastries from a bakery near the airport, aptly named "Paradise".

My favourite food experience during this trip would have to have been the grilled fish from an amazing restaurant that S’s uncle took us to in Jordan…details to come very soon, I promise!

Unfortunately I forgot my camera’s memory card at home so we have only a few pictures of the trip, taken mostly by my brother-in-law. The picture above is of Leith, happily chasing pigeons outside the Scientific Center in Kuwait – he had an absolutely amazing time.

Feasting on Feast

I was asked recently what some of my favourite cookbooks were – a friend was looking for ideas for Christmas presents for a few of her foodie friends. This was a question I have pondered before and I always end up saying something like “all cookbooks are great!” or “anything by Martha Stewart is always good”.

Well, not this time.

I’ve decided to start a “reviews” section on my site and I am going to list some of my favourite and possibly even a few of my not-so-favourite cookbooks and will review a few of them along the way. So stay tuned for more reviews in the near future and an evolving list of my all-time favourite cookbooks.

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Berry-Filled Sangria

This recipe changes every time it is made — depending on what wine is on hand and what fruit is available. In this one the strawberries were the best after about an hour of soaking time; the raspberries started to disintegrate and the blueberries didn’t absorb much alcohol… but did stay very tasty. You can also substitute almost any liquor for the vodka – rum, tequila, triple sec, cointreau, gin…

Continue reading “Berry-Filled Sangria”