A selection of photos from Tunisia, and accepting and nominating for the Liebster Award.
Fried pastries are a delicate matter, both literally and figuratively. people are particular, even passionate, about things like flake, crumb, and chew, and granulated versus powdered sugars. Families, cities, entire nations insist upon their unique patisserie, the best one, the only one, the right way. There’s no sense arguing; just keep chewing. I present to you the humble bombolouni of Sidi Bou Said, in Tunisia: Ragged edges, thick crunch, airy interior, served piping hot between pastry papers, To be eaten with gusto, and gratitude. [3esheq, Zied!] . . PS: If you like what you see here on OuterNotes, please subscribe to receive posts to your inbox! Click “Follow these notes,” top right of the page!
You’ve either got it, or you don’t. This guy’s got it. [Sidi Bou Said boutique, Tunisia. photo credit to Zied] . . . PS: If you like what you see here on Outernotes, please subscribe to receive posts to your inbox! Subscribe easily at the prompt on the right side bar of this page. If you’re a WordPresser, click “Follow these notes,” right side bar!
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 excerpt from a recent email between close friends: In all honesty I’m terrified, and my confidence is shaken to the core. Nevertheless, I can’t deny the everyday gifts: the kindnesses, the peach cobbler, the call to prayer and the hypnotic, beautiful dikhr that pours out from the mosques on special occasions; the birds in the morning; the cool floors of my house; the farmer who insisted on giving me two giant, leafy heads of lettuce for free. I try to compose my days of those gifts, building out the time like the homes here that are indefinitely under construction. And of mindfulness, and of quiet and gratitude as well. Not easy, but worth it still. Photos from Tunisia’s striking Sidi Bou Said