Mean and Crazy Folks

Late this morning I was relaxing for perhaps the only time on a busy Saturday. Sitting outside the train station with a petit crême from Paul, a French café chain that basically holds a monopoly on transport hubs – watching my daughter playing on these long, oddly curved, shiny, iron gridded bench / slippery slide things (ah, just see the photo) that dotted the newly renovated place. I was also acting as official holder of a delicious home-made chocolate muffin and there was a water bottle on my little stone table. Yes, it was the first time I’d been able to sit and just, think. Hardly two minutes later a familiar figure approached of a slim, unkempt, SDF (sans domicile fixe or homeless) guy who had already spit at me on two other occasions when I politely said sorry, I don’t have any money. Oh, and insult me in the ugliest way you can in the French language. I decided to ignore him this time as my friend had suggested. He repeated his request getting angrier and angrier. I decided to just tell him simply I don’t speak French. Since désolé apparently doesn’t work with these HCP types.  

I’d hardly spoken when he burnished his fist and violently swept it across the table throwing all of my affaires all over the ground. Then he put his hand in his mouth I guess to indicate he was hungry while verbally assaulting me again. I got up and walked towards my daughter but he followed me! I was furious by this point and began repeating an expletive – as if saying a mantra – in English. Unfortunately, my daughter could hear by this point, which led to an apology and explanation later. However, my outrage seemed to appease him immediately, he looked into my eyes with a deranged smile and waltzed the other direction presumably to go and continue his abuse of other unsuspecting strangers.

I sat down and searched the scene for a guard or police; we are supposed to be in a state of high vigilance especially since it’s the weekend and there’s a national touristy event going on called les Journées du Patrimoine, French Heritage Days, that’s led to exhaustive checks in other big cities and full body scanners in museums, Place Stanislas and even public libraries. A man approached me to tell me he’d seen the whole thing and had promptly called the police. I agreed to wait. About twenty minutes later a police car finally pulled up. The pair of cops walked into the gare accompanied by the caller who I assumed was explaining everything he’d witnessed. I waited near the car to give my testimony. About two minutes later they exited with another homeless-type guy and they seemed to be talking to him calmly, perhaps about the weather. He seemed calm and at ease even walking along beside them towards their car before stepping casually into the back to be taken to the station. This is an arrest in France? No handcuffs, intimidation or even just a shred of rough-housing of the baddie?! Well, I wanted to ask them about the other guy who it seemed had gotten away, but the lady cop had hopped in the back with their new arrestee and they were driving away. I can only assume they’d been duly informed of my experience but probably hadn’t deemed him as big of a threat, or would return for him at their leisure.

I must admit that I like the coolness of cops over here, provides a strong contrast to the American version. The homeless guy could have been a newbie undercover back in post 9/11 New York City. Still, why did this have to happen to me? Why can’t I have a pleasant run-in with a guy for once? These feelings of victimhood and helplessness, even hopelessness continued to plague me through out the day. The infuriating feeling that even if I could explain my case fully some aspect would still get lost in translation and I’d feel more alone than ever. Ah, life as an expat single mother.

 

Is there a Perfect Coffee Shop in France?

Last week I started “work” again. I put it in quotations because it’s more a two hour, twice a week, welcome reprieve from an otherwise monotonous, mother at home routine. Afterwards, we seal it with an additional two hours at a coffee shop. Moi and a few expats who also happen to be English teachers – still trying to wake up after roughly arriving on time to our 8:00 classes.

We’ve tried a small variety of coffee shops, striking off a few right away. The Strasbourg Café waitress overcharged and then got upset when called out. The one with the friendly Sicilian owner served up a cold watery brew. Everything in old town was too far away, and in my opinion over-priced.

So we tried a new place, the closest one to our place of work, one we’ve passed by a million times in favor of getting a bit further away from the relatively rough, slightly ghetto if that exists in Nancy, “un quartier minable” according to Google Translate. But, time was lacking so we stopped.

The petit crème (my drink of choice) varies depending on where you go. Sometimes it is sweetly creamy where sugar is unnecessary and at other times it can be a brutal black punch in a tiny cup that even copious amounts of sweetener does nothing to mellow him out (yes, it’s a boy, since we’re in France). A petit is not to be confused with a regular Cafe Crème or a Grand Crème as the size and price goes up noticeably.

  1. Une Tradition Italienne. The grand crème (bottom) for 2,50 was much praised whereas the petit creme (1,50) tasted just like a cafe (an expresso, no milk).  I was forced to add both of the sachets of sugar as a consequence. Even though I’m generally against the poisonous additive. It did come with a Bergamote de Nancy on the side, which was somewhat better than the usual alternatives.

2. Bar Royal. Across the train tracks on Rue Mon Désert, an apt name for a street that has three major bakeries at the first three cross-streets. I ordered a petit creme and received the biggest of my life. It was so white I expected it to be sweet but I got a hot taste of car diesel instead. Did I mention it was hot? It was McDonald’s hot, to the point where I stumbled and dropped the cup back in its oversized saucer, not entirely dumping over, lucky for me, but splattering the hot liquid in a puddle on the table which began dripping down onto my jeans. Since there was no napkin or serviette in sight I asked the waiter. Apparently, napkins don’t exist at this establishment as he took out his cloth and quickly wiped it up, but missed the small river now cross-sectioned off and dripping off the bottom of the vintage silver lined frame underneath the table and onto who ever was unlucky enough to sit in front of it. Aah! So they weren’t lying when I asked them for Wifi and they said that they are still in the medieval period. Maybe this was the size and flavour of coffees back then too, I wouldn’t be surprised. The price was 1,80. And it did come with a nice little kinder chocolate bonbon. That made the experience bearable.

3. Tassigny Café. RIght accross the street from the Italian one. They have a bizarre 70s bar feel on the inside that almost makes you embarrassed that it’s only 10 am on a workday, in 2015! But, I don’t mind a little vintage, if it’s tasteful. Noisy  neon orange back-lighted lottery games gracing the dingy corners, not so much. But, I was pleasantly surprised that my crème came with cocoa sprinkles, although small and minimally creamed, it gave the amount of sweetness I so desired. Rounded off with a generic fruity candy, the coffee could easily land in best value for euro at just 1,40.

Unfortunately, there’s the ambiance to consider. These places are all (well, Mon Désert counted out) on a busy heartless boulevard across the street from the central hospital and kiddy-corner to a maternity. The patrons are generally rough looking at best. Greasy haired, chain-smoking, wearing clothes that you probably saw hanging from the side of a dumpster the other day with “GRATUIT” scrolled across a re-fashioned peice of cardboard box in black marker. A far cry from the well-heeled and pleasant squares of Place Charles 3, Place Stanislas or Place St. Epvre. But you wont find a Petit Creme for under two euros there. So, Is the extra 60 + cents really worth it? Well, nothing can be claimed with any degree of assurance until first thoroughly tested.

Nope, not a baker mame

Aside

I realize now that I need to keep writing. My inner voice is screaming to be liberated into typed latin letters. I was thinking about latin letters because I don’t know any other alphabet. I always dreamed of learning Serbian cyrillic or classical arabic but I fear the closest I’ll get to that are my calligraphy drawings and some fancy moroccan (sorry, Algerian) pastries once I finally get up the courage to reattempt them. My first attempt back in England when I was still pregnant and bold was interesting, but not what I had in mind. I find baking really hard actually. That’s just a small confession between you and I.

What discourages me even more about baking is the unhealthiness of it all. I mean, why does there have to be so much white poisonous sugar and all that oozing melted butter ready to give you saggy armpits before you even have time to do weights.

Speaking of this, I never showcased the cake I made for my daughter’s one year birthday back in September. Somehow I found the time on a Sunday morning to whip up a no-sugar but sweet and presentable tablet to display her one little candle – brought it to the park and it all stayed together on a sunny Sunday.  Not something I can say for my energy balls that I brought out bowling on my own 31st birthday a few months later. But, that’s a story for another time.

Anyway, here is the cake:

Ingredients:

• 2 cups whole wheat flour
• 2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
• 3/4 teaspoon fine grain sea salt
• 3/4 cup finely chopped walnuts
• 4 ounces unsalted butter, heated until just melted
• 1/2 cup dried dates, seeded and finely chopped into a paste
• 3 ripe bananas (1 1/4 cups), mashed well
• 1/2 cup agave nectar
• 1 1/2 cups grated carrots (about 3 medium)
• 1/2 cup plain Greek yogurt
• 2 eggs, whisked
  For the frosting:
• 6 ounces cream cheese, room temperature
• 3 tablespoons agave nectar

Method:

1. Preheat oven to 350F. Butter a 9x5x3 / 8-cup loaf pan (or 8×8 cake pan).
2. Sift together the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt. Stir in the walnuts and set aside.
3. Stir the dates into the melted butter.
4. In a separate bowl combine the bananas and carrots. Stir in the date-butter mixture. Whisk in the yogurt and the eggs. Add the flour mixture and stir until everything just comes together. Spoon into the prepared pan. Bake for about 50 – 60 minutes or until a toothpick tests clean. Remove from oven and let cool.
5. While the cake is baking whip together the cream cheese and agave nectar. Taste. Once the cake has completely cooled frost the top of the cake with a spatula.

Enjoy without needing to feel guilty about letting babies endulge too!

The Ultimate Comfort Drink

There is something about tea that puts me in a mild euphoria everytime. I’ve always had a soft spot for this ancient beverage and I’d prefer it to any other drink any day of the week, even alcoholic. Now that I’m married to a Muslim and drinking is no longer an option, I hold onto my teacup with an ever stronger zeal. I sometimes fancy myself a bit of a connoisseur even. I will occasionally drop into a tea shop simply to test my knowledge and walk out happily when I leave the shop owner puzzling over some bit of new information.I enjoy trying the national teas of the country I happen to be visiting. France doesn’t really happen to have a tea. Their comfort drink is vin chaud (hot or mulled wine). It is made very similarly to tea in that instead of hot water, spices are boiled together with wine. Some of the same warming spices are used as in my favorite tea: Chai Masala. Or, since I am incidentally from Oregon, you could call it Oregon Chai, I won’t mind.

Chai Masala

Use all those warm, fragrant spices you have

Ingedients:

• Thick slice ginger root
• 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
• 6 or 7 whole cardomoms, shelled
• optional: 1 or 2 star anise, 3 or 4 black peppercorns, 3 or 4 cloves
• 1/2 liter whole milk
• 1/3 liter water
• 1-2 tsp. loose-leaf black tea, preferably something strong, simple and dusty like assam
• Sweetener. I usually use 1 tbsp brown sugar.

Method:

1. Start with cold water and the spices. Bring them to a boil together on medium high heat in an uncovered pan. Heat for around 7 minutes until about a third of the water has evaporated.
   

   A clay or ceramic cup is ideal. Glass or plastic is also common, but only recommended for the experienced!

2. Turn off and remove from heat. Stir and add the milk. Very gradually return to a sizzle. Remain watching the milk as it an boil over without warning! Don’t let it boil.
3. Once the milk and spices make a little mountain and raise, but not boil, turn off the heat.
4. Add the tea and sweetener, stir very briefly and cover the pot to let it steep for 4 to 5 minutes. Tea should never be boiled, but steeped.
5. Strain into a dainty cup. Enjoy!

Harira

Another delicacy from North Africa. This is one of the traditional dish that breaks the fast of Ramadan. All the credit for this recipe goes to my friend Hanan.

Ingredients:

• 1 pound cubed lamb meat
• 1 teaspoon ras al hanout or turmeric
• 1 1/2 teaspoons ground black pepper
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger

• 2 tablespoons butter or margarine
• 3/4 cup chopped celery
• 1 yellow onion, chopped
• 1 red onion, chopped
• 1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro
• 1 (29 ounce) can diced tomatoes
• 7 cups water
• 3/4 cup lentils
• 1 (15 ounce) can garbanzo beans, drained
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 1 lemon, juiced

Method:

1. Place the lamb, all spices, butter, celery, onion, and cilantro into a tagine or wide soup  pot over a low heat. Stir frequently for 5 minutes. Pour tomatoes (reserve juice) into the mixture and let simmer for 15 minutes.
2. Pour tomato juice, seven cups water, and the lentils into the pot. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat to simmer. Let soup simmer, covered, for two hours.
3. About 10 minutes before serving turn the heat to medium-high, place chickpeas into the soup, let cook about 10 minutes. Stir in lemon and eggs, let eggs cook one minute.

Enjoy with bread!

Sahara Sunset Soup

I chose the name for this soup because it’s kind of the color of the sahara desert. Or what I imagine it might look like around sunset. The Bedouins may eat this with chicken or lamb, but this version is totally vegetarian.

Ingredients:

• 2 potatoes, peeled and cut into wedges
• 1-2 cans of white beans
• 1/2 can of corn
• 2 tomatos, diced
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 small onion, chopped
• 1-2 carrots, chopped
• 1 celery stalk, chopped
• 1 tsp. olive oil
• 1 pinch hot chili powder (or more depending on your taste)
• 1 tsp. cumin
• 1 tsp. Res Al Hanout Jaune powder (yellow north african spice mix)
• Salt and black pepper to taste

Method:

1. Heat the oil in a large soup pan or tagine. When butter melts, add the onions, garlic, carrots and celery and turn heat to low, cook for a few minutes, stirring occasionally.
2. Once  onions are soft, add the spices to the vegetables. Sauté them for a minute or two stirring continuously. Then, add 10 cups of water, cover and bring to a boil.
3. When boiling; add the tomato, beans and corn. Stir and cook on medium heat for about ten minutes. Then, add the potatoes and salt and cook for ten minutes or until the potatoes are just soft.

Bismillah!

Tofu Radna

This is my own take on a thai dish I sampled while living in northern Thailand for five months. Chok dee (Good Luck or enjoy!)

• Ingredients:
• 8 oz. pack of tofu, cubed
• 100 g. chantaboon rice stick (Flat rice noodles from Thailand)
• 1 tbsp. peanut oil
• mound of fresh ginger root, peeled
• 3 garlic cloves
• 1 tbsp. fish oil
• 1/4 of a large lemon, squeezed
• fresh coriander leaves
• 1/2 tsp. ground cumin
• 1/2 tsp. ground paprika
• 1/8 tsp. hot chili powder
• 1 tsp. curry powder
• 1 onion, cubed
• 1 tomato, cubed
• 1/2 packet of coconut cream powder

Method:

1. Fry the tofu in a pan stirring occasional for about 10 minutes or until hard and slightly brown. Stir in the chili powder, paprika and cumin during the last 1-2 minutes of frying. Set aside.
2. Boil water in a pan and soak the noodles for about 10 minutes in the boiled water until thoroughly soft.
3. Meanwhile heat the peanut oil in a pan. Smash the ginger and mince the garlic. Fry them on a medium high heat along with the onion in the oil for a few minutes, stirring, until just before brown. Add the tomatoes and fry for another minute. Add the noodles and fry for a minute, add the fish oil and the squeezed lemon and curry powder, fry another minute.
4. Add 1 cup of water and cover, turning the heat down to medium. Once boiling, add the coconut powder and cook uncovered another five minutes or until sauce thickens.
5. Add the coriander leaves and serve.

 

Simple French Yogurt Cake

Now that I am an ordained homemaker, I will be transitioning this blog in that direction, largely focusing on one of my greatest passions: food.

Let us start with perhaps my most used recipe. I learned this one when I was living in Chartres, France. I’ve made this on almost all my birthdays since, including our monthly celebrations of our daughter’s. It is extremely easy and not too sweet so it can be enjoyed with tea or coffee the next morning.

Ingredients:

3 eggs

1 container of flour

1 container of sugar

1/2 container of melted butter or oil

1 tsp baking soda (or 1/2 a sachet of levure chimique)

1 tsp vanilla extract (or 1 sachet of sucre vanille)

1 container of yogurt (plain or your choice of flavor)

Shredded coconut and/or chopped almonds (optional)

The great thing about this recipe is that the yogurt container becomes your measuring vessel.  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Then, empty the contents of the container and set it aside. Wash the yogurt container. In a large bowl sift together the flour, sugar, and baking soda. Beat the eggs in a separate cup and combine them with the dry mixture. Then, mix im the butter or oil and finally the yogurt.

Pour batter into a greased baking pan. Top with coconuts or almonds if desired.

Bake at 350° for 20-30 minutes depending on how moist you want your cake.  Check on it continually to make sure.

Chai Masala Variation:

Heat the butter and oil with the same spices you use to make a cup of spiced chai tea.

For example:

1  tsp. cinnamon

1 tsp ginger

1/4 tsp ground cardamom

1/8 tsp nutmeg

Heat the spices for 2-4 minutes until the kitchen is brimming with fragrance. Then, add to the rest of the ingredients.

This recipe is NOT set in stone. It welcomes endless variations for the adventurous.

Womanhood

Homemaker is an underrated job. Cooking, cleaning, raising children has a higher learning curve than ever before. Except perhaps in the Victorian age when someone else did the nursing, etc even now house husbands start out just as adept as their female counterparts.

Gone is the age when girls graduated from school and went directly into the field they’d been trained for, that they were naturally inclined to- the domain of the house- which is only as alluring as one makes it. I don’t mean to sound anti-feminis. However, if we continue going back to work just a few short months after the new twig arrives in order to wear the pants; if the delicacy of a woman’s touch is absent at home; meals are no longer served on china; a woman becomes coarse and there is no way of telling the sexes apart.

Everything relies on the differences.

Lets have some Christmas Pork..I think Not!

I was wondering the other day why it is that we Christians are the only monotheistic peoples to still eat ham. Muslims shun it as a dirty creature that will eat anything and thus we better not eat it and Jews also know from their holy texts that it is a forbidden food by God. Therefore, why, especially during our most sacred of holidays, the birth of Jesus on December 25th, do we consume our Christmas Ham?

My family as many other families throughout America and on other continents enjoy ham on Christmas and for some reason even as a kid I always despised it and preferred the chicken instead. However, I would never refuse one of my grandparent’s juicy pork chops thus my hands are not clean even as a vegetarian I would “take a break” when I went to their house. It is just too hard to resist. So I thought it would be no big deal to go the rest of my life without devouring this particular animal when I married a Muslim man. But, as the season rolls around I find myself reminiscing about this oh so traditional of holiday fare and I wonder why on earth if it is really as bad as they say it is on Christmas it remains a token item. I even remember fondly a Christmas we spent on the Hawaiian island of Maui in a lu'au where a whole pig was eaten having been cooked in an underground pit with wood and imu stones. So how did a ham on Christmas start?

According to Wikipedia:

The tradition is suggested to have begun among the Germanic peoples as a tribute to Freyr, a god in Germanic Paganism associated with boars, harvest and fertility. It was later popularized by the Catholic Church as a test of truthful conversion.

The Christmas ham is also called the Yule Ham coming from Yule-tide, the traditional nordic pagan winter festival that was absorbed into Christmas. They say a bull’s head on a platter was served at the banquet to ask the god Freyr, one of the most important pagan gods, to ring in a happy new year. Interesting. So eating Ham at Christmas has absolutely nothing to do with Jesus or even the Christmas holiday, it simply continued from a much older tradition and unless you are of Nordic, Celtic or Russian descent really is not a part of your cultural heritage at all.

Okay, so my family does have Germanic roots, specifically Norwegian and German, so perhaps it is a family thing. But everyone virtually eats this food: there are over three million recipes for the Christmas version alone on google. So, what gives?

Again, according to Wiki there is in fact one Christian sect, the Seventh-day Adventists who forbid pork consumption along with the dietary laws of Jews (kashrut) and Muslims (halal). I am currently eating halal but I don’t believe it differs from the restrictions for the Jews so the food is interchangeable.

From the Hebrew or Old Testament Bible it says:

Leviticus 11:7-8
And the swine, though he divide the hoof, and be clovenfooted, yet he cheweth not the cud; he is unclean to you. Of their flesh shall ye not eat, and their carcass shall ye not touch; they are unclean to you.

From the Quran it says:

Surah 2:173
He hath only forbidden you dead meat, and blood, and the flesh of swine, and that on which any other name hath been invoked besides that of Allah..

Also, pigs, like humans are omnivores and will eat indiscriminately. According to “The Genesis Diet” they can commonly carry up to 200 diseases and 18 species of parasites and worms, which cannot be detected. One of these is trichinosis, which mimics arthritis, rheumatism and typhoid fever. Approximately 10-20 percent of Americans suffer from trichinosis at some time and in which worms inbed themselves in the digestive tract and larvae and other parasites in the muscle tissue that cause a host of unexplained symptoms ranging from unexplained fatigue or muscle pains. These problems occur very seldom among Muslims and Jews. So why is pork not expressly forbidden in the Christian New Testament Bible?

It’s a good question. The Bible does forbid it in the Old Testament but Jesus doesn’t discuss it so it is okay? Would Jesus be alright with us celebrating him with it when it was once offered up to an idol on the same day? Would God who strictly said in the Old Testament that Pork is unclean change his mind? Here are a few verses that may help:

For every creature of God is good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanksgiving.
Timothy 4:4

But whoever has doubts is condemned if they eat, because their eating is not from faith; and everything that does not come from faith is sin.
Romans 14:23

So I suppose we each have to look within our own consciousness on this one.