Time passes, and there you are doing things you didn’t know were possible: harvesting tomatoes; meeting ministers; winning the trust of neighbors; chatting with cargo ship crew from New Jersey at the Berbera port; stripping down to bathing suits on a Somali beach, guarded by baby camels and soldiers with AK-47s. You made it, and the story no longer writes itself; you’ll have to put pen to paper and craft the day anew each morning. Here’s to relentless adventure.
It was Eid al-Fitr, following the month of Ramadan, and we had a goal: to win over the neighbors on our hilltop. our strategy: cookies, as many kinds as we could manage to churn out of our small stove. We mixed and rolled and patted… …and raided the grocery store and our kitchens for the most cookie-esque ingredients we could muster. We did well, with an assortment of shortbreads: cocoa, coffee and chocolate, lime, date and nutmeg, cardamom, and peanut butter with blueberry (green!) jam. We packed and wrapped in flashy, Eid-appropriate paper, tied with a string. …and headed out into the neighborhood, intent on making smiles, and crumbs, and friends.
A selection of photos from Tunisia, and accepting and nominating for the Liebster Award.
In Sidi Bou Said, outside Tunis, a restaurant that must resemble heaven, considering the grumpy service and tourist prices views. Next to a gaggle of children blowing bubbles and making faces, I enjoyed a strong, capable, robust mint tea topped with earthy pine nuts and a few aromatic leaves. And a hearty brik, hero of Tunisian street food: whisper-thin pastry dough stuffed with loose, runny egg and fried to perfection. sometimes also stuffed with tuna, or cheese, or potato, and often served with a wedge of lemon to squeeze over and balance the richness of the brik. May you enjoy your snacks – and your weekend! – with smiles, and fried perfection. . . . PS: If you like what you see here on Outernotes, please subscribe to receive posts to your inbox! Click “Follow these notes,” bottom of the page!
An advantage of visiting a place more than once is that you’re no longer hostage to its sensations, or to its beauty. The second, third, tenth times around you might avoid being bowled over by the aromas and flavors, tingly with the aura of the landscape; you’re likely have your wits about you, and that means you can make reasonable decisions about where to go, how to eat, and what to leave with. I found myself in this delightful situation in Tunis. I’d been just enough times to know exactly what I wanted to eat, where I wanted to visit, and I had designs to package loads of good stuff to take home with me.
I’d waited seven years to taste the real deal again, during which time I made many attempts to replicate, imitate, reconstruct. Sometimes I came up longer than short, but it was never quite right. Lablebi, oh miracle dish of Tunisia, comforting stew of myriad spices. Cheap, quick, filling, and perfect for a cold and blustery winter day in the capital city of Tunis. Guided in my culinary endeavors by good friend (and veteran edibles guide) Zied, we aimed to be Champions of Lablebi, consuming full portions of this hearty, filling stew. We started with the requisite bowls of bread, tearing the chunks into smaller pieces, or crumbs, depending on personal preference (the smaller the pieces, the thicker the resulting stew, or so say the Experts). Bowls properly filled with bread crumbs, we handed them over to the Professionals Behind the Counter, who ladled steaming chickpea stew into each. They topped each bowl with mounds of spices: cumin, harissa, and others that should probably remain the secrets of Those Who Know. And then a few adroit tosses; just enough, not too much. And …
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