The Continuing Saga of the Sheep

So I honest-to-God forgot about the ram's horn I had in my checked luggage when I filled out my custom's declaration. In any case, when I got home and pulled it out of my suitcase, my dad's first reactions was, "ooh can I make a shofar out of that?" So of course since I had no idea what I wanted to do with it, I handed it over and before I knew it he had found DIY shofar instructions on the web. Next thing I know the house smells like dead animal (again?!) and he's boiling the horn to get the cartilege out. Then it has to dry for a while and then you cut off the end so you get a hole the whole way through. It's kind of a small shofar and doesn't work so well...but he got a squeaky tkiyah out of it last night. Now we can have our very own Rosh Hashanah services with our very own homemade shofar.

Home Again!

So after 5 days of depression and packing and chaos and canceled flights and crazy old people...I'm home!

Here's what I wrote yesterday in JFK:

I’m sitting near this crazy old lady waiting for my flight from JFK. She keeps asking everyone if they’re going to Maine. She’s nuts. She just talked to this one guy:

“Are you going to Maine?”
“Yup.”
“Do you live there?”
“Yup, in Gorham”
“Oh that’s great. What are you doing down here?”
“I’m stationed here, I’m in the Navy.”
“Oh you’re in the service! You should be wearing your uniform, it would get you to the front of the line. Not during Vietnam, but now.”

Really, lady? She hasn’t shut her mouth since she sat down: “is that seat open? I’m old. Let me sit down.” She’s not even that old. Maybe in her 60s.

“Go ask one of those girls. Put your Navy hat on and go ask them.”

She cackles like an old witch.

There’s also a legit cowboy standing in front of me. With a huge HUGE probably like 5 inches across belt buckle and actual boots and jeans and a teal plaid shirt and a vest and a cowboy hat. Either he just rode his horse here or is really into making fashion statements.

This place is absolute chaos. They’re boarding like 8 different flights out of the same gate, there are people that I swear have been here all night at least, and everyone just looks so dejected and forlorn and pissed off. Welcome back, kids. Welcome back. (The End.)

So here's what happened. JFK was a shit show. We were lucky enough to get on our plane, and then proceeded to sit at the gate while they couldn't figure out whether or not we had a tug, or a de=icer, or gas, and there was airplane traffic, and after three hours of this nonsense they let us off the plane and decided it was canceled. So a few of us rented a car and trucked it up to Maine - but the trip that should have been 5 hours ended up being 7 and a half because of weather and bad roads. Not only that, but this one old guy we were driving with was legit crazy. He was 71, and lived in Nashville, and kept telling us about his life in the music industry and his family and country music and was basically just crazy. He wore all this silver and turquoise jewelry and had a thick southern drawl. It was nuts. Quite a welcome back, I have to say.

Ho Hum Doldrums

I am completely done. Last test was yesterday...it came, it went, I conquered. Today about the only notable thing I did was go pick up my second passport (finally) and read a few chapters in a book. FOR FUN. Which is SO not Jordanian. At all. I took a nap. I watched TV. I ate. I blogged. Sounds like a heck of a day, right? We will ignore the fact that I felt guilty all day because I got myself in trouble for breaking curfew last night...whatever, it was worth it - out till 2 dancing the night away (yes ma, sober). Self-imposed punishment is always a fun thing. Tomorrow I suspect will be busy busy busy! Meeting, shopping, picture swapping, farewell dinnering, saying good-bye, drinking ourselves silly...or not quite. It's crazy that the semester's almost over. I am neither mentally nor packing-ly prepared to leave in 4 days. We are all busy trying to squeeze in that one last thing before we go and preoccupied with making half-baked plans for meeting over New Year's back in the States. People are slowing dropping off but no one is really ready to realize what it actually means. People are just getting depressed, or drunk, or turning into hermits (yes, that one is me), and then we'll all kind of just leave, and that'll be it. It's weird. We've all gotten so close and we know each other so well, but we don't even know each other's real (U.S.) phone numbers. It's like a parallel universe...

Marrying Sheep

Here's what's gross: I ate sheep intestines. And little stomach-flesh pouches stitched shut and filled with rice. Those were not my faves. But I'm sick of talking about sheep.
Here's what's cool: I went to an engagement party! It was crazy. All the girls were SO SO SO done up. It was very cool to see them, with their hair and the makeup and the dresses. There are pictures on my phone so if I figure out a way to get them to my computer I'll post them. But the one thing it did make me realize is that I don't EVER want to do that to myself - not get engaged, I mean, but put on that much makeup or that much effort into my hair. But is that so surprising, knowing me?

I killed a sheep.

Or rather, I watched a sheep die, get skinned and butchered, and documented the entire event. To be honest it was rather nauseating and I couldn’t actually watch the exact moment when the sheep’s throat got slit in the middle of the driveway. First he’s alive, and next thing I know there’s a puddle of blood and a slice through his neck. Anyway, aside from the overwhelming reminder that life is short (oh, the humanity) and death is just a butcher’s knife away, it was a very cool process to watch. Granted watching the squeezing out of the intestines (bile and poop spraying everywhere…) was a little more than I needed to see, and the post-slaughter preparations of the meat, feet, and head smelled up the kitchen (and my clothes) rather more than I would have liked, it was fascinating. I was wondering whether I wouldn’t be able to eat meat again after I watched the whole process but in the end not only did I eat its meat, I ate its vital organs. I’m not a fan of sheep liver, but some of the other parts weren’t bad. It reinforced my conclusions that if I am going to eat meat, I have to be able to stomach the fact that it gets killed. Anyone can pick an apple off a tree and eat it (except apparently for the fruitarians in Notting Hill…), but I’m thinking maybe you shouldn’t really eat meat if you can’t kill (or at least actively watch the death of) the animal you are going to eat at least once. I was talking to some of my friends later and they were talking about how that was so gross and they don’t want to know where their meat comes from or think about how it ends up on their plate but really, at least with this sheep, I know how it lived (more or less) and I know exactly how it died and what happened to it afterwards. Yeah, I couldn’t exactly eat pounds and pounds of it, but I had a greater appreciation for what I did eat. You can’t help but think about the slaughter when you’re eating it and it makes it that much more real, kind of. I don’t know, I can’t really explain it but basically if you ever get a chance to watch your own meat get slaughtered, do it. Yes it’s gross and sad and all that but it’s humbling at the same time. Very Omnivore’s Dilemma.

Where to go to feel Middle Eastern.

Imagine:
A room suffocated with argileh smoke, the smell of the tobacco, coffee, tea, and food, packed with people talking and laughing, sounds of an ‘oud, traditional music, clapping, and singing reverberating through the air. This is Jafra on a Wednesday night during ‘Eid break and probably my favorite evening activity I’ve experienced to date.

2 Ma’amoul, 2 Sheep, and a Car Accident

And more pictures than probably was strictly necessary.

I apologize in advance, but the extreme quantity of notable occurrences that have happened to me in the last 48 hours necessitates the exorbitant length of this post.
I will narrate in chronological order.

Two nights ago two friends of mine were leaving, so I went over there for their sort of “last supper” deal. We ate, talked, hung out, and by 10 pm I was sitting around a table with all the women of the household, an aunt, and one of my friend’s moms, making ma’amoul à la Palestine. You take a clump of dough, roll it into a small ball about half of a golf ball, roll it out until it’s about 3 or 4 inches long, push it with your fingers so it’s flatter and kind of has a trough down the middle, then you take the tamar filling stuff, roll that into a ball and then into a snake so it fits in your trough. Wrap the dough around the filling, so you have a filled tube, and then make it into a circle, attach the ends, and voilà! Into the oven and sooner or later you’ve got zaki ma’amoul.
The next day it was time to buy a sheep for slaughter, because it’s Eid al-Adha and that’s what you do. Eid al-Adha celebrates that time when God was testing Abraham and told him to take Isaac to the top of a mountain to sacrifice him, and then took a ram instead. At least that’s our version of the story but it’s something like that. Anyway so that’s why you get to kill a lamb (or two or three) this week. So I was walking (which is totally not done in this country but whatever I just wanted a walk) towards my friend’s house because I was going to go sheep shopping with them, and I had just crossed an intersection when I heard a HUGE bang. HUGE. Thank God I had crossed when I’d crossed because debris from the crash skittered to within 10 feet of where I was standing. What happened was some girls were driving and turning right onto the road when a big ol’ tow truck came along and took off the entire front of their car, basically all the way back to the front axel. There was coolant spilling everywhere, all of a sudden people appeared on the street from out of nowhere, got the girls out of the car, made sure they were okay and then started shaking each other’s hands and greeting each other like this was just another day in Amman; Hey there Mohammad, how’s the family? Eat any good mansaf lately? Anyway so I basically stood their for 5 or so minutes until I got of the courage to take a picture of it…
I finally got to my friends house, a little shaken up to be sure, but all in one piece, and we headed out to the sheep selling venue. I’m not entire sure how to describe these things. It’s like a vacant lot on the side of the road, movable fences organized into contiguous pens filled with sheep, rams, goats, and probably some other animals or half-breeds all spray-paint marked to designate their vendor. People would walk around, browsing the goods for sale, and then start to ask questions about weight and age and things like this, all of which are apparently very important in sheep purchasing. Then the sheep is chosen wrangled, and stuffed into the trunk to be taken to to await its slaughter and transformation into mansaf. But a picture is worth a thousand words in this case…
Phew. We’re getting there. When I got home after sheep shopping I walked in to find the women and girls of this household sitting on the floor around a big bowl of dough and a tray of tamar filling, making Jordanian ma’amoul. What’s the difference, you ask? So for these, you take a ball of dough about the same size as if you were Palestinian, now flatten it in your palm, and take a ball of filling about the same size as the dough ball and put it in the middle of the flattened dough. Now close the dough up around the filling and roll between your hands so it’s sealed. Now you put it into this wooden mold thing, which when you pop it out makes it look kind of like an Aztec pyramid. Then you bake it and eat it!
Okay. Almost done. So today was the first day of Eid al-Adha and I was determined to spend it with my family doing whatever they were doing. So we got up, had breakfast, blah blah blah, we find out visitors are coming! All of a sudden we are making mansaf, the traditional Eid meal – rice, a yogurt sauce, sheep (or is it lamb? I forget), and topped with toasted almonds. I leave the room for a few minutes and when I come back, the meat of an entire freshly slaughtered sheep is strewn about the kitchen, being designated for charity, mansaf, or in the case of the vital organs, to be cut up into stew-size pieces and saved for a meal at a later date. Next thing I know I am slicing lung into bite-size pieces and throwing it into the colander along side liver, kidney, heart, spleen, and – wait for it – esophagus. The weirdest/coolest part of the whole thing, well except that I was touching a lung, was that this sheep was killed two hours before hand. The inside of the lung, inside all the fatty part, was still kind of warm! It was really cool to be like, hey, this is a whole sheep, and it just died, and now we can look at its organs and judge its health and cut it up and then eat it! And you could tell by the color of its organs that it really was a healthy sheep.
So then the mansaf was cooked and served, with the head of the sheep (which had to be done in a pressure cooker because apparently heads cook slowly?) the crown jewel of the platter. Important cultural factoid: if you are having guests for a holiday you are supposed to slaughter an entire animal to serve them because it’s a sign of respect. How do you prove that you did this? You put the head right in the center! Another fun fact: mansaf is traditionally eaten with ONLY the hands – no utensils, no plates – so it’s basically you make balls of rice with the yogurt stuff and pull strands of meat off the bones with your hands. The best part of mansaf (well I don’t do it but I like to watch other people) is that when you are mostly finished eating you just sit around picking the “delicious” parts off the head, such as the cheek, the tongue, the eye socket…you get the idea. It’s like Thanksgiving, the Farbers, and a turkey carcass, except way more badass.

Tomorrow I am supposed to go to my friend’s for more sheep slaughtering (this is the one for whose purchase I was present) and eventual mansaf eating…I don’t know how much more of this I can take!

Smell That?

It's in the air. End of the semester fever/exhaustion is about to set in. It's only seven hours away. Post-test was this morning (S. 'n' C. for those in the know) and the big debate for Allison's class is this afternoon. And after that, shit's gonna hit the fan, my friends, because we are DONE. (Okay, so there are a couple more finals, but they're not for more than a week...so we have time to celebrate, right?) Now all that's left is Eid, vacation, the farewell dinner, and the long flight home...and back. Oh didn't you know, though? I'm coming back to this desert kingdom, I'll escape the cold New England winter (sad) and forsake a daily shower and properly flushing toilets, once again put myself at the mercy of King Hussein and his revenge.... but it'll all be worth it, I hope. And insha'allah I'll be back a third time, we'll see, God willing ya'anee...

And maybe even ערצ ישראל לפסח, anyone want to join?

يوم المفتوح

Open Day!

What a spectacle. 60-some odd college students, uppity Jordanian professors, staff members, and 2 hours of songs and skits. What could be better? We in مستوى خامس did a rousing rendition of Hashemi Hashemi to open, which basically included us running around like idiots while Ari, the only guy in our class, shook his booty à la Napoleon Dynamite in what may have been a fairly accurate imitation of the King - not that I would know, never having seen him dance. Then I also read some dumb paragraph about a city, and then I was in debkah, which is traditional dance, and it was AWESOME we were so good. It's like a mix between riverdance, the horah, and ridiculousness. And THEN our class also did Snow White! And I was the Evil Stepmother/Queen, and I was SOOO good. It was so fun. Except then I was exhausted and went to bed last night at 9:30/10 and woke up this morning at 9:00 which was great great great. Finally! Real sleep.

Ya Haram!

Today we had class outside, on the shady walkway where couples do their thing, girls smoke, and generally things get crazy. So of course we were bound to see some extraordinary sights. Actually it basically was the best thing ever. There was a guy and a girl, in jilbab and hijab (jilbab is the long coat thing) and they were totally touching each other, and a few times I could have sworn they were going to start making out. They were all holding hands, and poking each other, and stroking each other's faces... So mish munasib (not appropriate) in public. Or, really at all. Okay, so this is becoming a gossip column. But actually it is an interesting social observation...we were asking our teacher about it and he was telling us that a lot of times things like this happen when a girl is told "no, no, no" all the time at home by her father or brother or whoever without discussion or explanation, and then she goes out of the house and finds someone who will talk to her or whatever, and gets herself into this haram relationship. It's really sad actually, because then she is looked at as less respectable, our teacher even used the word 'gabia (stupid), even by us. It was interesting to see how a lot of us reacted to it - like how could she do this, she's compromising her morals, you can't do that in public - whereas in the states (well first you probably wouldn't see someone like her) PDA, or any physical contact, between guys and girls is totally 'adi (normal). Weird, how we've gotten so used to this societal norm. Going home is going to be quite the reverse culture shock.

World Affairs Council

So this evening, for my IR class, we went to the World Affairs Council (not really sure what it is but it sounds impressive) for a lecture by this guy, Dr. Jawad Anani, who is the former chief of the Royal Court for King Hussein and is/was the Minister of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and on and on with a very impressive resume, but was really just a funny old man who reminded me of my dad in 20 years. Anyway he gave this 20 minute lecture on Jordanian foreign policy and then opened it up to questions. His lecture was interesting - not so much for what he said but more so for what he didn't say. He told us lots of nice stuff about Jordan but skimmed over anything that might be interesting or controversial, and painted everything in a favorable light (I think that is a combination of expressions). This was especially true in answering questions. For example I asked him how Jordan defines terrorism (he had mentioned in the lecture that they define it differently than the US/Bush), and to reply he basically said it's a fluid definition and it depends on the situation but the most important thing is security. And then he started talking about Israel and Gaza, so of course I agreed with his point, but he didn't answer my question. What is that? That's not a definition. That's just secrecy. There were other questions, too, that he didn't answer and just danced around...
It was just interesting to see how governments, and I don't really have enough experience with American politicians to make similar judgments, will go to great lengths to protect themselves and not incite opposition. Like why is a state definition of terrorism such a secret? Or does it purposely not exist because it gives the state the power to judge on a case by case basis and prosecute for "terrorism" perhaps in a situation where it might not 'really' be present? Or like targeted arrests, like in Egypt under Nasser? Ah, strong police states. Love it.

Anyway so then after the lecture was over, a few of us (all girls, because girls are smarter than boys) stuck around for the weekly World Affairs Council meeting, which was literally a group of like 15 old Arab men and one woman sitting around in arm chairs drinking coffee and discussing world issues, like the economics in Dubai and the issues in Gaza (in Arabic, which is what made it cool). So we hung out and felt smart for a while, nodding along with everyone else and looking offended when Israel's wrongdoings were mentioned, feeling wise in the ways of the world and erudite in the company of Jordan's political and academic elite.

The other cool thing (this is it, I promise) was that I guess some guy from their Dead Poet's Society died the other day so at the beginning of the meeting they did this thing, like held their hands up with the fingers curled facing them (like in Havdallah when the candle is supposed to reflect off your fingernails) and then like washed their faces kind of? I don't know, it looked pretty cool because they basically did it in unison and it seemed like a nice kind of memorial ritual. I'll have to figure more out about it. Or I'll have to wait for someone else to die, God forbid.

Catching up and Tasting oil

Has it actually been a week since I last posted? Apologies...although nothing much exciting has happened so really you would have just been bored. This weekend was nice (who says that?), on Thursday night I watched a movie with Victoria and then went to the mall, because that's what cool kids do. Then Friday to Ajloun! To buy olive oil! It was very cool. We got to see the whole process from olives to oil. And no, Rachael Ray, I do not know if it was EVOO but I don't really care because it was totally LOCAL and we all know that's so much better for the world. It was also the most zaki and flavorful olive oil I've ever tasted, and also the freshest which probably had something to do with it. It was basically like a mechanic's garage but instead of cars there were big oil making machines. Check out the pictures for an out-of-order look at the process. We saw the whole thing, from bags of olives to mush to oil. Then we got to stick our fingers into the stream of hot oil to taste it, and proceeded to purchase upwards of 200 JD's worth.
Then I learned how to make مقلوبة which is probably one of my favorite dishes, so that was very exciting.

I am not excited, however, for the coming week or two. Another research paper, preparing for Open Day (basically like a big talent show thing except we have to speak Arabic), and generally winding down the semester is daunting and does not bode well for stress levels or mental health. Oh well. On the plus side I get to wear fun new sweatshirts from Abdali all the time now because the weather is getting colder.

Starbucks. It's what's for dinner.

Here's what's weird: apparently Starbucks only exists in Amman.

Don't Read (unless you want to be bored)

Blah blah blah today is Sunday, back to the grindstone of daily life...although I have more or less finished my paper that's due tomorrow, which is nice, going back to school and real life is never the greatest day of the week. Especially after such a ridiculous weekend. I think I laughed more this weekend than I ever have before - if you want to know why, look at my pictures, and you'll get some idea...
Thursday night I went to my friend's apartment for a parrrtay! which really was more like flashback to the frat house, but was fun nonetheless. Then Friday morning I went with some friends to Abdali (again...) and bought some more ridiculous and ridiculously cheap clothes, then went over to their house and ate some ridiculously huge breakfast, hung out there for the day, had a cooking lesson, ate tons of delicious food (again), then went out then home and to bed. That was all the exciting part of the weekend, yesterday was boring and normal but I did watch Camp Rock on TV which was pretty awesome.

Cool things that happened today:
You can get a falafel kbeer (big falafel) for 600 fils (.60 JD), so cheap lunch=always fun.
I almost died because this guy in a fat pickup sucked at driving. But actually that's normal for here.
Liz flipped the bird to some guys driving a truck because they waved at us while we were walking. It was fantastic.

So yeah, that's what's going on in my life, nothing super exciting.

Stay tuned, I promise something interesting and insha'allah some more pictures up tomorrow.

Seveen

or rather seven...pieces of bread that is.
As usual we went to Seveen to get lunch and I got humus and fuul and chubuz, and I paid for only two chubuz (that means bread). So the guys were giving me my stuff on the tray and they threw on this whole stack of 5 chubuz and I was like, no I was two chubuz. And they were like take it! And I was like, no, I don't want this, I want two chubuz! But then they were telling me to take it and I was like, whatever, I'll just eat 5 chubuz, which of course I didn't I only ate two and a half and then took two with me. So, basically, the point of this story is that there really is not point, it's just a mildly funny thing that happened to me today.

That's the Middle East for you...

It's crazy that stuff like this goes on all the time, so close to here, and yet life goes on as usual. I guess that's how it is here. But it's weird to think I can be having a great day, and a few (or more like a few hundred) kilometers away, people are shooting each other.

Driving, Driving in Your Car

So Farah (my sister) had a driving lesson this morning and I got to go along! Actually it kind of sucked because we had to get up at 6:15, but I got a free ride to school which was sweet. It's funny to listen to someone learn how to drive in another language, and now I know how to say things like, shift to second gear, or easy on the clutch, in Arabic. All I have to say is, I am so glad I didn't learn how to drive on these hills and it's a good thing they don't get snow like we do.

But I miss driving :-(

Salt of This Sea

Last night I went to the closing night of Palestinian Film Week, for the film "Salt of This Sea." How do I describe this experience? The venue was amazing - beautiful theater - but it was more than that. When the film began a whole group of guys sitting behind me started singing along and clapping to the opening song which got the rest of the audience into it and we were all clapping. That's what I realized this isn't just a bunch of people watching a movie, it's like all these people in one place connected by this bond and shared experience and they're all there to experience this depiction of the suffering together. That doesn't even make sense and it's probably corny or a cliche but it really felt like that - like they are Palestinian and they are there to watch a Palestinian film about Palestine because somehow they all love Palestine, or being Palestinian, or whatever.




It's hard to explain the actual film - the basic plot is a Palestinian American from Brooklyn who goes to Ramallah (even though her family is from Yaffa) to find her grandfather's money which is her inheritance and to take her "right of return." She goes from Ramallah into Israel (illegally) and the film follows her personal journey until she gets deported back to the States for overstaying her visa. Of course, the Israeli army is painted as the unjust villain, and the only portrayals of Israeli civilians are as settlers, Zionists, or pacifists. Aside from the fact that I thought the main character was a little bit crazy, I found it to be a really hard movie to watch. Who do I empathize with? Both sides? Neither? What about people here, is that a usual Palestinian sentiment? Why do I always feel guilty when I see things like this? Am I perceived as one of these stereotypes? It's such a complicated experience being so close to everything, in the middle of it all. I mean obviously I am not Israeli, but trying to stay connected to my religion and disconnected from Israel is hard. I have mixed feelings and it's hard to completely validate both sides at the same time.

But confusion and angst aside, it was a pretty good movie, even though the main character was way too skinny and not even that pretty. Although stereotypes abounded, it seemed like a fairly realistic portrayal of the circumstance and touched on a variety of political and social issues. Definitely recommended if you get the chance.

Where to start?

Maybe with my second foray into East Amman, and the smiling lady at the bread shop where they cook it in the Iranian style, by throwing a round of dough onto the inside of a large open kiln and then pull it out and hand it to you fresh. Or maybe with the guys I saw dragging a full grown sheep across the sidewalk, still kicking. Or maybe with the fact that I spend an hour yesterday smashing raw meat through my hands, and then another hour stuffing my face with zaki kebabs and chubuz and basal and all sorts of other goodness. Or maybe with just the fact that the more I see of Jordan and Amman the more I want to stay. That everyone here is so nice and wants you to be here and see Jordan as they see Jordan. Like if you say your favorite thing in Jordan is the desert, the response is a smile that lights up the room. I have felt happier in the last few weeks than I have in recent memory - I won't tell you it's any kind of supreme bliss, but I have definitely been feeling a certain joy and excitement in life that has I think been shway lacking...

Clarification...

Just to clarify, I am of course very excited that Obama won although it is very unreal. I was only expressing sentiments that seem to be prevalent here (and, from what I hear, in the states) - that it is a great thing that Obama won but I guess I still have the sense that there is a lot of "underground" racism in the US and throughout the world. My host dad told me that there have been several assassination plots against Obama that have been foiled by the FBI. There is a palpable sense of optimism tempered with cynicism here, that Obama's election is a great thing and an incredible step for America, but I have also heard on more than one occasion that there is too much work to do and Obama won't be able to do it, that the messes are too big...although it seems to be unanimous that Obama was the better choice. The main topic of all conversation here - even between Jordanians - is the elections, and what this will mean for the entire world. Everyone understands that this election is probably the biggest thing to come our way in this lifetime, although it always seems to go along with comments about how happy Oprah was. I don't really get the obsession with Oprah here, but hey, what can you do. Anyway I don't want this to become a forum for seriousness and cynicism, it was only a comment made in passing but not a comment only I have made.
Props to Kenya for having a national holiday, too.

And now i might go cry a little bit, mom.

Hussein

That is, Barack Hussein Obama...

I woke up this morning to the sounds of the TV - quite odd for a school morning. So since I wanted to go back to sleep I went to close the door but was instead greeted by everyone gathered around the television and a rousing chorus of "the elections! Obama won!" To which I dazedly replied that polls only closed an hour ago (this is a disclaimer for any possible bad time zone math, I'm sorry, I was tired) and how could they possibly know already? But it seems as though they really do know and people are celebrating and all that jazz so I was happy. Then of course I realized that he'll probably be assassinated soon (God forbid) so we'll probably just be back where we started. But it'll be great while it lasts, insha'allah.

TAG, you're it.

So I am now a member of TAG ... which is basically this sweet place (I won't tell you where...) where they have FREE wireless, computers, comfortable chairs, meeting rooms, and food (which I don't think is free). This is their mission statement: "To support the Arab youth community in building their professional capacities, reshaping their skills, and upgrading their qualifications through a state of the art information technology tools and customized knowledge facilities in order to ensure opportunity equality with their international peers." I will revise it. "To support Americans abroad in maintaining their sanity, reinforcing their typing skills, and upgrading their blog posts through wireless internet and Windows Vista in order to ensure connectivity and communication with everyone at home." The only problem is their plugs don't fit my plug so I have to find one of those 2 to 3 prong converter thingies. Ah well, the joys of Jordan.

Abdali and the Fleas

This morning we made the epic journey to Abdali, an area of Amman that houses a weekly Friday morning flea market. And this thing is the biggest thing you have ever not seen. It's like Goodwill on steroids, except outdoors and cheaper. We were in thrift shop heaven...as Nina said, all the hipsters at her school would have orgasmed on the spot. (Sorry for the vulgarity, but it's pretty accurate.) I came away with quite the haul - we're talking 5 dishdashes (traditional garb), 4 sweatshirts, a t-shirt, a scarf, and a winter coat all for less than 40 JD. And I only made it halfway through the place. Just wait till next Friday, when Operation Sweater commences.

Dear Prince Hassan Bin Talal,

It was very nice to meet you today, I am honored and amused that you remembered my blog post and requested to meet me. Hopefully this one will be less troublesome for your secretarial staff. If you do read this, kindly respond (or have someone do it for you, as I'm sure being a Prince is quite time-consuming - I wouldn't know), so I know the Jordanian government is doing it's job running internet searches with your name in them. I hope your meeting today was productive, and we were disappointed you could not join us for the policy forum yesterday.

Sincerely,

Audrey.

I met the Prince.

Continuation of the story:

Remember last time when I was sitting on my beanbag chair at work and didn't get to meet the Prince? Well apparently, since this is Jordan, they have people that run internet searches on the royalty to make sure there are no security threats or whatever, and they came across my blog post. Concerned that there had been some sort of problem, they contacted RHSC, and we all had a nice little chuckle over inter-cultural misunderstanding and misinterpretation.

So today after class Liz got a call from Enass, all of a sudden got really excited, grabbed my arm, and I knew. We ran to get a cab, and in our excellent Arabic told him to go b'sur'a (quickly!) and we ran into the building. Apparently the Prince was there for a meeting and when he arrived at the Center he asked if the girl who wrote the blog was there. So when I got there, he requested my presence (personally!) in the meeting and I went into the room with a government rep, UNHCR, CARE, and RHSC people. And the Prince. And he stood up, kissed me on both cheeks, he met Liz and Gena, and then we stood for a picture with him. All in all it was rather awkward but quite funny, the picture is not very good...we all look absurd and overly diplomatic but hey, what can you do.

So that was definitely the highlight of the day, and when we went back to school it was to watch our soccer team get whooped by the Palestinians. Yeah, shit happens.

irony. they have it here, too.

I was lucky enough to get a native's tour of East Amman (read: Palestinian camps) tonight. It was like a whole other city. It's full of neighborhoods with character and community and real life, and, surprise, poverty. The thing that got me, though, was the fact that from just about everywhere in this part of the city - 100% Palestinian - you can see the huge Jordanian flag. And from West Amman you can't see it at all. In any case, I am so glad I got to see that part of the city finally and insha'allah I will get to go back, maybe in daylight and maybe for a longer amount of time. It really was amazing - you could just feel the sense of community from the people on the street. As nice as people might be here in the West, over there in the East they are ten times nicer and it just seems more like a place to call home, despite all the hardships they face.

And the Weeks Just Keep On Coming

So needless to say the tattoo plans fell through primarily due to lack of designs and a paternal kibosh. Ah well, maybe in the future. The middle of the semester is coming and going in a whirlwind of personal disasters and midterms, but what else is to be expected, and my IR class is canceled for the next three weeks so I am wallowing in excess and unexpected free time. Tomorrow is the RHSC "Iraqis in Jordan" policy forum which HRHPHBT (I have to use code because the secretaries found my last post...funny story for a later date) may or may not be attending. I had to buy shoes for it so mom, if you're reading this, would you be interesting in reimbursing me the 69 JD / $ 100 I had to pay? It was for work so it was a necessary purchase. If not, really no big deal. Anyway as usual that is about the most exciting thing going on in my life, that and the new spandex capris I bought at the Adidas store in Mecca Mall! I'm very excited to break them in, and one can never have too much spandex.

Midterms, or imtihaanaat al-nisf al-fusul

Finally midterm week is over, we've had four Arabic tests this week: fosHa, listening, speaking, and 'amiyya. They all went pretty well which is nice, but I now just want to crash. The fact of not having slept well lately is really wearing and it makes me just not want to do anything except lie in bed. I've also watched all the movies I have so I probably need to go get some new ones.

The plan is to get tattoos tomorrow, but since my excellent idea was kiboshed (sp?) I now don't know what I want. I might do the chamsa/hand of fatima though, but I'm thinking really small and right on the wrist. The other thoughts were verses from a poem or from Alf Laila wa Laila (A Thousand and One Nights) ... there's a poetry verse in the first story that's kind of cool. It's hard to find something on command, and I haven't found anything that really resonates so I don't think I'll get a tattoo of any of those. In any case, we'll see if it actually happens or not, we tend to be quite disorganized vis. planning, etc.

This post is a bit of a ramble and a bit depressing, but I figured it had been awhile so it's about time. Insha'allah I'll get some sleep and maybe be able to post about happier subjects in the near future, ya'anee mustaqbal.

Friday Breakfast!

Now that Books@Cafe has reopened we can finally get the Friday Breakfast we've been craving these long weeks. 7.5 JD gets you more than one, even two people, can reasonably eat, and it's all absolutely delicious. An omelette, manakeesh, pancakes or french toast, fruit salad, toast, juice, and tea or coffee are all included and everything in generous portions. They skimp on nothing and thank God because we are some hungry girls...

Books!

Books@Cafe is open again and Jenna, Nina and I have taken full advantage of Friday Breakfast. We're outside on the terrace eating, relaxing, and pretending to try to start studying for midterms next week. The atmosphere here is so carefree and no pressure it's hard to be motivated. Reliable internet and good food are totally worth it though. The chaos that plagues the waitstaff creates a slow paced meal as long as you're willing to go with it. Definitely not the place for hungry eaters in a rush...

But we're all reveling in the glory that is Books after its brief Ramadan/post-Ramadan hiatus. Hamdul'allah, the oasis on Rainbow Street is back - maybe not better than ever, though, as the previously fully stocked outdoor bar now boasts ten soda cans and a couple bags of coffee.

Only in Jordan..

Liz and I were walking to work and when we got to the building, lo and behold, an armed guard, a silver BMW, and nondescript sedan with two blue police lights on top. Wouldn't it be funny, we thought, if the Prince (Hassan bin Talal) was here? He is, after all, the Chair of the Centre. Nah...not a chance. We go inside, go up the elevator, get out, and right in front of us are two more armed guards outside one of the conference rooms. Hmm...maybe... when we get to the office we ask Jenna who informs us that the Prince is indeed in a meeting with the entirety of the Higher Council (the umbrella organization through which RHSC operates). There's Hashemite Royalty less than a football field from where I'm sitting on this beanbag. No, it's not weird that I work on a beanbag. I want to catch a glimpse before he leaves, insha'allah.

Tashlich, a Little Late

From stuck in the middle (east)

I finally did my tashlich yesterday, in the Jordan River. Insha'allah God will forgive me the delay because I did it basically in the PL. Not every day you get to throw your sins away in the Jordan.
Back to real life again for another week. I'm starting to get sick which is utterly unfun, I can't sleep (ever) - quelle desastre - and so am constantly exhausted, and I realized I should probably start doing SOME homework so I don't fail completely. Ahh, the daily bore that is real life. I guess the good news is that the worst thing going on in my life is the lack of sleep. Everything else is going along quite swimmingly, the Arabic is finally coming out and the comfort level with all that is increasing. Hamdl'allah.

شوارع عمّان

יום כיפור

An easy fast to all...
These last ten days are supposed to be the Days of Awe, the days when we ask forgiveness for all our sins against others of the past year, and tomorrow the day when we ask our forgiveness from God. It is coming at an interesting time, just after the end of Ramadan (Rosh Hashanah fell on the first day of Eid - good timing!). In one sense, I guess it's a good thing. My stomach is prepared and I'm in full fasting mode, although I did eat the requisite large pre-fast dinner, even if it was a bit later than sundown. Ramadan, too, is the beginning of the Islamic calendar year, and as such also a time for reflection, resolution, and repentance. So I feel more like I've had 40, not 10, Days of Awe and more than enough time to reflect on my life.I haven't done any Tashlich, although I suppose I still could, although I can't find any running water, this being the desert and all. As always I haven't actually asked anyone's forgiveness directly, but hopefully through actions and words I will grow to be a better person this year. That is, of course, always the goal, isn't it? And I hereby ask forgiveness of anyone I may have intentionally or unintentionally harmed in the past year.

I'm certainly feeling the lack of community here, as much as Yom Kippur is generally a miserable day, I would much rather be sitting in synagogue that in class/work tomorrow. If only I had a siddur with me... or can you imagine, Jerusalem on Yom Kippur? And only 50 km away...

Yom Kippur

Tonight began Yom Kippur, holiest day of the year, and infamous day of fasting. As usual, got started late - finished dinner around 7:30, a solid hour after sundown. Whoops! Tomorrow will also be the first day in my life I've ever gone to school on Yom Kippur. That should be interesting or, more likely, really not fun at all. All's fair in love and the Middle East, though.

What Happens When 5 Year Olds Take Your Computer

intahat al-eid

Eid is over now, school begins tomorrow with regular full-length schedules (i.e. three hours of Arabic a day). Things will be open so we can eat during the day, the RHSC office will be open until 5, and dinner will not exist in my homestay. This should be fun - a whole new version of culture shock. Who's ready?

Eid Sayeed!

Ramadan is finally over, and I have certainly been eating like it. Mish mushkilah.

Am currently contemplating trying out the (only professional certified) tattoo artist/place in Jordan. It's pretty close to my house, and I think it'll probably be cheaper than the states. Maybe they'll do piercings, too.

Food. Finally!

I learned (by watching) how to make my first dish – although I don’t know the details. I did learn a bunch of important vocab, however. Like cardamom (hill) and almonds (louz), both of which are integral components of ouzi, currently my favorite, maybe second favorite, Jordanian dish. Picture a huge mound of rice and shi’iriyyah (short noodley things), topped generously with ground meat sautéed with onions, garlic, and peas (and something like pounds of cardamom), then that topped with chicken cooked in cardamom, and all that topped with just a few handfuls sprinkling of toasted shelled almonds. Zaki kateer jiddan! Serve with a side of salata (guess) – cucumbers (khayaar), tomatoes (bandura), parsley (ba’adunis), salt (malaH), lemon (limon), and oil (zayt) – and I challenge you to find me a better meal anywhere.

Oh, and I forgot that iftaar always begins with dates (tamar) and soup. Now that’s a challenge.

Turkish Bath. Part One.

Walking into Al Pasha Turkish Bath you see a tiled fountain and a spacious room filled with couches and coffee tables covered in the latest Jordanian fashion magazines. Waiting for my friends I was offered my choice of juice, tea, or coffee and my tea came ready for me to sweeten it just the way I like.
We were led first into the changing room to put on our bathing suits, and from there into the showers. After a quick rinse we began our treatment in the steam room. Through an unassuming arch in the wall and a white curtain, through a sort of vestibule, up four steps into a small stone room lined with stone benches, with small circular colored holes in the ceiling for light and filled with a thick, overbearing steam smelling of something like jasmine or sandalwood. Couldn’t breath at first, but it got easier, especially when relieved by the cool slushy-type juice we were brought. After we sweated out our toxins we were led to the hot tub where we soaked for a good fifteen to twenty minutes while waiting for our exfoliating scrubs. Once atop the marble “scrubbing tables” we were instructed to remove our tops and subjected to a rough – though incredibly effective – scrub down with soap and exfoliating pads. I’m pretty sure they removed skin from places I didn’t know I had. We were all encouraged (independently) by our scrubbing technicians to observe the amount of brown-gray skin gook they had removed and left sitting on our skin before being rinsed off. After the scrub came another hot tub soak in anticipation of the (warm/hot oil) massage. Ahh, the massage, the be-all-end-all of the spa experience. The masseuse began on the shins and the feet (ow and tickle), and proceeded to find all the knots and tight places I could possibly have had. My thighs – front and back – were punched, my back smacked, and my hair pulled. All in a good way – it was incredible and incredibly relaxing. After our massages we returned to the hot tub for a post-treatment soak and from there to the showers where my hair was smoother than I think it has ever been, thanks to the massage oil.
We made grand plans during our numerous soaks to return frequently to the baths. After all, who can say no to that ambience – arches, stucco, tile, low light, humidity, and topless bikini-clad women (men have their own hours, sorry boys) – or to the general sense of relaxation that followed. Don’t worry, we will return – post-midterms, post-finals, and pre-departure. And whenever else my (rapidly slimming) wallet will allow.

Nearing the end...

It's almost the end of Ramadan and I have yet to get any awesome recipes. I really need to get on that... Mansaf itself is basically worth the trip to Jordan, and I really want to be able to cook all of this stuff when I get home. Then, of course, you all will benefit, too.

Life is frustrating...

It's so hard dealing with this language barrier. I feel guilty when I speak English but my functional ('amiya) is just not very good. Dilemma! Starting to speak more (English) at home though, I just want to try to get involved in general... The weather is finally getting cooler now, actually had to wear a sweatshirt thing when outside this evening.

Iftaar Rocks My Socks

Definitely some of the best food I've eaten and some of the craziest iftaars I've experienced. Thursday night iftaar in Irbid with the host family's extended family. I ate sheep tongue AND sheep eyeball. Gross, but actually, the eye socket was pretty decent. I wish I had a picture of the ouzi, though, because it was a sight. A huge mound of rice with almonds, meat, lamb, and the crown jewel, the SHEEP'S HEAD. Ahh, Jordan.

Halfway, almost

...through Ramadan. Spent the weekend in Irbid with my host family's extended family, which was overwhelming and interesting. Kind of like my family, only in Arabic, so now I know what it's like for guests at Farber family events. Coolest moment of the weekend was when I was doing some yoga (everyone needs a little me time) and for about 20 minutes during my sun salutations I could hear the call to prayer. Not to sound cliche, but it made the yoga almost spiritual and even more calming. It was a rough day, not being able to communicate well with everyone, and that reminded me why I am here, and that that wouldn't happen anywhere else in the world. It totally reaffirmed the reasons I came and made me really want to figure things out. The words will come, I just have to give it time...

Jordan...

…so it’s now been just about two weeks. Just enough time to deal with King Hussein’s revenge, jet lag, airport customs detaining my laptop, and the first week of Ramadan. Whew. Classes start tomorrow and I feel like we’ll be getting into a rhythm, which will be good – although the lack of food during the week will be draining, I expect. Nevertheless it’s exciting and I’m looking forward to getting my Arabic up to par and, hopefully, some kind of internship or volunteer position. I am also hoping for an opportunity to make some Jordanian friends although I’m not sure when or where that will happen as we do kind of have a CIEE bubble. And my fake engagement ring might actually serve its purpose and keep the prowlers at bay. Or creepy taxi drivers. And men in general, which really is the point. Ah, Jordan.

Ramadan, Part Two: Ahh, Saving Grace

Thank God (or Allah?) for Books@Café. It is the American/British ex-pat haven and is the only place I have yet found who both sells, serves, and permits consumption of food and beverage on its premises. Not only that, but it’s darn good, too. From Friday breakfast (a 7.5 JD prix-fixe meal that feeds three) and Saturday lunch (a traditional Jordanian offering) to the super-thin crust pizzas, Green Mountain (New England, baby!) coffee, and juices (when in Jordan, do as the Jordanians do and get a Lemon with Mint), anything and everything here is worth the price.

Especially the free wireless. And the bookstore downstairs. But mostly the free wireless. And the outdoor patio, and two bars (with alcohol. Duh. Ex-pats.). But, obviously, I really just came for the wireless. And the food, because Ramadan makes you hungry.

Ramadan, Part One; End of the First Week

I’ve now done a week of iftaars, a week of fasting (…or not), and a week of not getting up for suhuur in the morning. Seriously, 4:30 am? I don’t think so. Although I will have to do it at some point; I told my host sister to surprise me one time by waking me up for it, so we’ll see when that happens.

Ramadan in Jordan is tough. Not going to lie, I’m not that good at fasting, and when it’s pushing 40 C and sunny, not drinking water is just not happening. Finding food and beverage for sale is difficult, and a place to consume said contraband even more so. It’s been a week of sneaking into corners, elevators, empty rooms, and dark alley ways for a mere sip or snack.

That said, iftaar kind of makes up for all the difficulties. Begin with three dates, then some soup, then a generous portion of a main course, followed by some sort of dessert and, of course, tea. But that’s just the beginning. A couple hours after iftaar, you get hungry again and go in search of fruit, leftovers, or even better, a cocktail from Lubnani Snack (think smoothie or fruit juice, no alcohol involved). Sleep a few hours, wake up before dawn, eat, sleep more, watch TV, then do it all again. That, in a nut shell, is Ramadan.

Some beginning's end

The end of the semester is always so gastronomically frustrating. You can't buy anything new to cook, there's nothing in the fridge, it's raining and delivery options are usually limited to shitty pizza or overpriced crap. I finished my peanut butter, my almonds, cashews, raisins, fruit, vegetables, had eggs for lunch, and Gia doesn't deliver. When you're stuck with campusfood.com, what's a girl to do?
After eliminating the 23 pizza choices out of 56 total, and the 6 chinese, and the 5 indian because I had that two days ago, and all the other bad choices and closed restaurants, you're left with basically nothing to choose from.
So of course, despite the fact that I kind of wanted a salad (and I had two yesterday...I guess my body might be trying to tell me something?), I opted for Phoebe's Bar-B-Q, a South Street mainstay. I've had it once before, but didn't have the meat (long story) so tonight I got one of their combo plates: 2 sides, 2 meats, and a piece of cornbread. I'm currently anxiously awaiting my mashed potatoes, sneaky spicy greens, brisket, ribs, and cornbread. And contemplating running over to Greek Lady for a salad as an appetizer. Crazy? Might be. I'll let you know how it is.

Cheers.

Just Like My Mother Used to Make

What could be better in the middle of finals week than a home-cooked meal?
I'll tell you: nothing.

I and several others were invited to the home of a prestigious campus figure for Friday night dinner. Food and conversation (and wine?) were all delicious. Yes, conversation can be delicious, but that is besides the point.

You can get good food a lot of places, especially in a city, but nothing says "good meal" like, well, a good meal. Cooked in a real kitchen by real people, and eaten around a table in a totally relaxed atmosphere, there's really nothing like it. This is especially true for college students (and particularly during finals), when the majority of our meals are shitty and more than most of the time in a disposable container. Not to mention the harm this does for the world, it is neither socially for gastronomically satisfying.

So close to the end of the year and so close to mom's cooking you can almost taste it, there's nothing like a sit-down, laugh-out-loud, home-cooked meal. Find a few friends and a few hours and try it yourself. Trust me, you'll love it.

Why We Shouldn't Use Economics to Solve Problems

The Economist from a few weeks ago seemed to be all about the food crisis. It also proposed a solution - use SCIENCE and TECHNOLOGY to breed specifically high-yielding crops. Sounds a little like GMOs...and a little like a bad idea.

Lack of diversity in agriculture, much like in the human gene pool, increases susceptibility to diseases and pests and tends to favor the less nutritious varieties. This solution also causes a loss of traditional crop varieties and seeds (amaranth, anyone?).

There has to be a better solution, but I'll think of one later.

Ironic...

Standing on oil and gold to get food ... interesting perspective on this global food crisis we have going on these days.

More commentary on economic perspective of the crisis to come ... need to organize thoughts.

Something about an Apple

Something about apples and peanut butter really does it for me these days. You get your fruit, and you get your fats and proteins all at once. Delicious and Nutritious! And somehow it ends up being a whole lunch, once you finish the apple and start eating spoonfuls of peanut butter. How do you know when to stop? Well, when you can't breathe because of the peanut butter smeared all over the back of your throat, it's probably a good time to call it quits.
But boy, is it worth it.

Love - in a tiny blue cup

Dear Capogiro,

Thank you. Thank you for creating Rosemary Honey Goat's Milk Gelato. Thank you for creating Cioccolato Scuro Gelato. Your existence has defined mine. You have made my life, and the lives of many others, worth living. Words are not enough.

I am infatuated.

I'm going to a picnic, and I'm bringing...

Seen:
On the banks of the Schuylkill, 1 p.m., group of girls with a picnic lunch. Yellow blanket on the grass and plastic bags of food. How cute. I might be jealous.

Heaven in a Tin Box

Here is what addiction looks like:
The infamous Almond Kiss is a Passover staple for basically every Jewish family.

Gooey, not-milky chocolate-caramel blob encasing two almonds. Eat it slowly, make it last, savor the chocolate caramel goodness. Bite your almonds, don't eat them all at once. Relish the taste and the experience and realize that, no matter how bad the rest of the food might be on Passover (dry, crumbly, tasteless cakes, undercooked eggy matzoh brei, rock-solid matzah balls, the lingering aftertaste of matzah meal and potato starch in EVERYTHING), salvation is found in the colorful tin box full of deliciously perfect Kosher for Passover candies.

"Now everywhere you go someone is chewing on Bartons Almond Kisses - even in New Jersey."

Fruit: The New Atkins

I have successfully abstained from eating matzah since last weekend. I feel this is some sort of record or achievement which deserves special recognition. I also have not missed eating bread at all, which is unexpected. Perhaps that is because I am slowly but surely overdosing on fruit.

Fruit is my bread replacement and the new sugar, the new vice, in my diet. Sure, it is arguably healthy than eating cookies or cake, but pounds of fruit every day can't possible be that good for me. Everything in moderation, after all.

Although there is one sure benefit: I am free of the gastrointestinal problems inherent in eating matzah.

In anxious anticipation

I anxiously anticipate the return of the Headhouse Square Farmer's market in less than two weeks. Not only does it mark the season for delicious local food, but it makes a weekend full of farmer's market goodness in Philadelphia. Saturday features the Clark Park Farmer's Market from 10-2 and Sunday (beginning May 4) boasts the Headhouse Market from 10-2.

Fresh, locally farmed vegetables, fruits, poultry, meat, and eggs and locally produced wines, breads, and so many other goodies await. But I can't!

Mmm..

Passover! Faves. What could be better than nothing leavened, nothing that rises, and nothing that could possibly inflate or increase in size when cooked? I feel like I am on the Atkins diet.

That said, there are only five forbidden grains: wheat, oats, barley, rye, and spelt. I have decided to invent my own Pesach rules and avoid only these five grains, maybe beans and legumes for a while, and also corn because corn syrup is bad for you and the world.

Ahh, to eat bread again...

Although homemade Kosher for Passover food rarely disappoints.

I am apparently easily convinced.

I have been vegetarian, more or less, for about a year now. I don't have a very good reason, and I'll be the first to admit it. It's a matter of convenience on some level. I don't want to deal with having meat sitting around that I have to cook, and food tends to be cheaper if you get the meatless options. But yet another book I'm reading is starting to convince me to go back. Not that it should be hard, I don't have hard and fast ideas strongly supporting vegetarianism, other than vague health, environmental, and societal concerns. If anything, the book, Nina Planck's Real Food reinforces my ideas about the importance of eating locally and as minimally processed industrially produced food as possible. She focuses on real food, and her arguments are convincing. I am particularly swayed by her praises of saturated fat. She claims it is good for the immune system. It could be because I am currently feeling a bit under the weather, but a hefty (healthy?) dose of grass fed raw milk butter certainly does sound good right now.

To Farm or Not To Farm

Dilemma:

Remove farmland from Conservation Program in order to produce more food?

Food prices are high: farmers will make more money farming this land and selling the crops than they can make through the government program paying them to preserve the land for environmental reasons.

But the Program has been successful: duck populations are high. Hunters like ducks, and duck-lovers like ducks. And a sudden influx of crops into the market will likely drive prices down and the farmers will be worse off than before.

Who will win? Immediate increase in income for farmers but potential for future decrease? Erosion-prone prairie lands currently being protected as wilderness and wildlife refuges?

Maybe the answer is for people to eat less, so the demand goes down and the environment gets preserved. However this still leaves farmers in the pale. And then what about the next industries in the chain, the bakers and others who turn raw crop into consumable good? They need money, too.

I completely understand the farmer's position. Assuming costs would not subsequently drop, it is more financially sound for them to remove their land from the program and turn it into production land. But are these really the farmers we want to support; are they the small-time guys, or the huge corporate farms? Further, if everyone removes their land from the program, that would be a huge loss of conserved and protected lands.

I don't think there is a good answer. Perhaps certain farmers - those small guys - should be given priority in de-conserving their land. That would control future price fluctuations to some extent and would also promote family or small-time farms. Because let's be honest here - I doubt big-time cattle ranchers and huge corporate wheat-growers really NEED that extra money. They could probably also use the morality lesson associated with dedicating their unused land to environmental preservation.

A Penny for Your Foods

Why is healthy food so expensive? I don't mean "health food." I mean real, live, down to earth healthy food. Yes, a banana at 50 cents at your local fruit stand is no bank breaker. But think about it like this:

1 bagel = 1 dollar, 300 calories (guesstimate) and limited nutritional value
1 banana = 50 cents, 100 calories, and a plethora of nutrients

To get the same amount of straight-up energy, you'd have to spend 50% more on the healthy food (bananas) than on the less-healthy option (a bagel).

This is obviously a very basic, overly simplified algorithm. Less healthy things like croissants and muffins are usually more expensive than something like a bagel. But then again, more elaborate (the reason croissants are so expensive - and delicious) or "exotic" fruits are more expensive. Silly little containers of fruit salad that consist mostly of days-old, over- or under-ripe honeydew generally run between three and five dollars. For the same price, you can get a small soup (which is of course fairly healthy, depending). But you can also get at least two muffins or three to five bagels! And this is all so far without taking into account fast food, where at McDonald's one can partake of a Sausage Egg McMuffin for a mere 450 calories - running only a couple of dollars.

No wonder this society is so unhealthy. When you can get a more filling (or disgusting...), higher energy meal for a roughly equivalent price, it's only logical to choose that option when eating based on financial reasons alone.

But I wonder why this is the case. I don't think I need to argue that a Sausage Egg McMuffin, or even a croissant, muffin, or bagel takes more time and money to produce. Aside from shipping costs, which make tropical and exotic fruits legitimately more expensive (but really, the "sausage" in the McMuffin did NOT come from the pigs next door), it has got to be cheaper to get an apple on the shelf for consumption than it does a baked good or especially something involving meat. That doesn't even take into account the costs - financially, agriculturally, and otherwise - of raising animals for slaughter or making muffins. (I'm probably being a bit hard on muffins...)

Yes, fruit is perishable. Yes, some of it comes from far away. But meat is perishable too, and I don't even want to know how long some of that McDonald's stuff has been sitting around. Plus, that meat had to travel, too. Here's where I think the difference lies: fruit is unprocessed. Thus, because processing involves labor and therefore wages, as well as machinery and factories and therefore huge amounts of energy, foods that are processed should by all rights cost MORE than unprocessed foods in equivalent quantities based on caloric content and nutritional value (better should be cheaper - deterrent!).

Then there's the whole issue of how you can't find fruit anywhere hardly. (Restaurants, coffee shops...)

....Don't get me started on vegetables.

Why Capitalism is Bad for Food

"People are starving in Africa so that American politicians can court votes in farm states."

It makes you think about what kind of world we really live in. Food, like water, is a necessity for life. But both resources have turned into profit-driven corporate machines. Why should people all over the world be starving, without access to water? The world couldn't always have been this way. People just don't live where they can't get water. It's that simple.

Water should be free, with unlimited access for everyone, everywhere, all the time. At the risk of being too political, only a hard-hearted hard-core capitalist could disagree with that.

But food is a tougher question. People have been trading in food for millenia, but somehow these days entire countries are full of starving populations. Why is this? Oh, the people we could blame. Colonists and colonialists, the industrial revolution, subsidies... the list goes on. Yes, these are sources of the problem but the real problem here is not what happened back then but why it isn't working now. And why isn't it working? Like Krugman says, it's because of the cost of raw materials and basic foodstuffs. And who's to blame? The American system, oil, biofuel, and the Chinese.

Top Food Myths, Facts, and Contradictions (Do you know the truth?)

1. Bananas are binding.
2. Red wine prevents cancer.
3. Dietary cholesterol is bad for you.
4. An apple a day keeps the doctor away.
5. Chocolate is good for you.
6. Chocolate causes pimples.
7. Bread crusts make your hair curl.
8. The Food Pyramid.
9. White bread.
10. Soy products.
11. Beans, beans, are good for your heart…
12. McDonald’s salads.
13. Menstruating women crave chocolate.
14. Diet soda.
15. Celery is negative calories.
16. No red wine with white fish.
17. No cheese with seafood.
18. Goat cheese is lactose free.
19. Caffeine is dehydrating.
20. got milk?

Tough Love

It's been a long time...

I've now been trying this pledge thing for a couple weeks, and let me tell you, it's TOUGH.
How can you avoid refined ingredients and sugar and soy and dairy and non-local eggs? It's really hard. Finally I've kind of figured it out, though. At least I hope so. I'm eating a lot of fruits and vegetables, pretty much abstaining from carbohydrates when I eat out of my house because it's so hard to find 'healthy' stuff. It's sort of turning into a whole foods-esque thing, although I don't think the raw food thing is really anywhere I want to go with this.



The tempting vice aspect of the things I'm avoiding is also hard. One thing I have discovered is Alternative Baking Co.'s 100% Vegan cookies. They're pretty good, actually, except for the fact that they're packaged so I now know how many calories are in a giant cookie. It's a lot...yikes.

It's a hard "diet" (although I don't like to use that word - maybe lifestyle?) to follow, but every day I figure out something new that makes it easier and better. And it's worth it - I feel generally healthier and no longer get that gross feeling you get when you eat too many nasties. All in all so far a success, we'll see if it lasts.

A Promise

This is my pledge:

To be a “fair-weather” vegan, in the following manner:

I will not eat dairy because I am lactose intolerant.

I will not eat meat unless it was killed by a hunter, and killed and butchered by the same person or someone they know. Read The Scavenger’s Guide to Haute Cuisine if you have any questions.

I will not eat fish unless it was caught locally by a small-time fisherman. We’re talking in the morning, off the pier type of fish-purchasing here. No tuna nets for me.

I will not eat eggs unless they are from a family farm or personal chickens, and preferably raised organically. There is a reason egg baskets exist, after all.

I will not eat highly refined food products if avoidable, with the exception of maybe sugar because it’s really hard to get around.

This might not sound like veganism, but when you’re stuck in a city with extremely limited access to farms and local sustainable agriculture, it might as well be. I want my food to have a personal connection to the earth, to where we all come from. I believe that is the socially and environmentally responsible and sustainable way to eat and consume.

You can hold me to it.

Strawraspraisinana Oatmeal. What?

First of all, I need to start out by saying I hereby rescind all previous oatmeal-hating sentiments previous espoused. I am a convert. No thanks to Cereality. I have now mastered its preparation and oatmeal with a banana, maybe some strawberries, cinnamon, and brown sugar is now a necessary part of my morning routine.

Today was no ordinary day, however. Instead of staring my day with oatmeal, I am ending it with oatmeal. I have crafted, from the depths of my shelves and freezer, a decadent yet nutritious (unfortunately) dessert oatmeal. A handful of frozen raspberries, a handful of frozen strawberries, a small handful of raisins, and the better part of a banana makes up the fruit quotient. Then there’s the oatmeal. Oh, and then my secret ingredients: a seriously generous “dash” (and I use the term quite liberally) of cinnamon, nutmeg as I like it, and – to mix it up a little – cardamom! At first I hesitated over the addition of the cardamom, but then I realized that I love cardamom strawberry shortcake, and I figured since there were strawberries in my oatmeal, why not add cardamom? Then of course, the requisite spoonfuls of brown sugar on top … mix it all together … and voilà!

Seriously pink and full of complex flavors - the cardamom really came through – this dessert oatmeal is one for the ages. Although there’s no reason why it couldn’t be for breakfast. I just happen to be eating it at night.

And in the Morning, I'm Makin' Waffles!

I experienced a heartbreaking culinary disaster yesterday.

I really wanted waffles, because it was Saturday, which is clearly a weekend breakfast kind of day. I have a fancy-pants Belgian Waffle maker from Williams-Sonoma and it came with a booklet that has some waffle recipes, so I figured I would try one of those instead of doing what I usually do, which is make it up as I go. (Although in my defense, that tends to work out pretty well.)

So this recipe was one of those annoying ones where you have to whip your egg whites until they’re stiff. And being the lazy personal that I am, I decide I don’t want to dirty my hand mixer so I opt to whip them by hand. BIG MISTAKE. Yeah, I got them to whip up, but they weren’t exactly stiff or firm. They were more of what we in the business (ha) might call soft peaks. But my arm was tired, so I stopped. My other problem was that I tried to combine water with melted butter, and when I realized the idiocy of this I attempted to rectify my mistake by adding milk. But that didn’t really work either. Anyway, I decided to just go for it and mixed it all together.

When I poured the batter into the hot waffle iron, it rose immediately, like it was supposed to, but then after a couple of minutes of cooking it collapsed. I guess my waffle iron was too heavy for the not-quite-stiff-enough egg whites. I figured I should probably just let it keep going. I wasn’t about to start cooking a whole second breakfast at this point, after all. After a few more minutes, I started to smell burning, so I peeked (oops). It was getting a little burned, but it also looked a little uncooked – so I took a little piece and lo and behold, the insides were totally wet! I let it finish its cooking cycle and smothered it in brown sugar and fresh banana slices to try to mask the mushiness of its innards, and it kind of worked.

It didn’t taste terrible, it actually was pretty good, it just didn’t exactly work out the way it was supposed to. Alas, now I know for next time. I am just better at experiments than I am at recipes, at least in the morning when I am tired.

WWOBPs...yum!

Today’s Experiment: Whole Wheat Oatmeal Banana Pancakes



Purpose:

To make healthy and delicious pancakes using ingredients on hand. (Honestly, who has time to run to the store on Saturday or Sunday morning before pancake cooking time? Not me.)

Materials*:

¼ c. whole wheat flour
¼ c. oats, presoaked to soften them
½ tsp. baking soda
¼ tsp. salt
Dash of sugar
Dash of cinnamon
Dash of nutmeg
1 egg
½ c. orange juice cut with water or water cut with orange juice, depending on your taste**: this amount can be increased or decreased depending on your particular batter
Banana (or some portion of a banana), sliced
Butter or oil for pan

Procedure:

1. Mix whole wheat flour with baking soda and salt and stir to mix.
2. Lightly beat egg. Add orange juice/water mixture.
3. Preheat and grease pan/skillet/griddle over medium-low heat (on my gas stove … yours will probably be different).
4. Add soaked oats and egg mixture to flour mixture, stir until incorporated: about 10 stirs. You don’t want to overdevelop the gluten in the flour because you will have tough pancakes.
5. Spoon your desired pancake size of batter into your skillet and put some banana slices on top.
6. Cook for a few minutes, until lots of bubbles develop, and flip. Cook for another minute or two.
7. Garnish with sliced banana and brown sugar. Enjoy!



Results:

Definitely one of the most successful pancake experiment recipes I’ve created. Soaking the oats before adding them to the rest of the ingredients is a clutch step – otherwise they will be tough. I might have added too much nutmeg, but they were still very good. The spices add depth to the sweetness of the banana, which is sometimes bland on its own, although obviously those should be altered according to your personal taste.

Conclusion:

Delicious! Highly recommended, and definitely to be made again.


*Recipe from which I adopt other pancake recipes is a buttermilk pancake recipe.
**You need an acid in the recipe to chemically react with the baking soda. Think baking soda and vinegar volcano circa third grade.

My Favorite Place in the World

Raw and Guilty

My Guilty Pleasure:

Raw Cookie Dough

I make cookies basically for the sole purpose of eating the raw dough. Regular cookies are great and everything, but there is nothing as finger-lickin’ good as a fresh batch of raw cookie dough. Why bother turning the oven on, scooping, scraping, and cooling when you can get an even better treat 15 minutes sooner?

Sometimes people get a little put off by the whole raw egg thing but to tell you the truth it doesn’t bother me. Maybe it’s a bit of a sumo wrestler complex: raw eggs make you strong. But also if you think about it, there are only two eggs in an entire batch of dough, and it is doubtful one will eat the entire thing in one sitting, which is a pretty small amount of raw egg. However, if you can eat an entire batch of cookie dough in one sitting, well, I might marry you.

I am partial to chocolate chip, but really any cookie dough will do. Although oatmeal tends to be a little iffy because of the toughness of the oats, a delicious blend of cinnamon and brown sugar often redeems raw oatmeal cookie dough. I am currently slicing off a frozen log of snickerdoodle dough. It’s addicting. Slice after slice, chunk after chunk. I can’t stop. It might be a clinical disorder, I’ll have to check on that one. Don’t let me go back for more.



Before I make myself sick…

How to make (edible) raw cookie dough if raw eggs freak you out:

Make it like normal (“as directed”), omit the eggs and any ingredients like baking soda or baking powder, whose chemical leaveners are unnecessary if you aren’t baking the dough. It should be about the right consistency – you might have to use a little less flour because the lack of eggs means less wet ingredients. Also, sometimes when I bake I use oil instead of butter: this is a NO NO when making raw cookie dough. Because you can’t cream oil and sugar, the dough ends up oily and separated and generally disgusting.

Raw cookie dough, with or without eggs, is the most guilty of my guilty pleasures and the only one I could never give up. Eat it. I will convert you.

On Caffeine

I hate coffee, I like tea.

Why coffee is gross and tea is delicious:

1. Coffee is bitter, while tea can be sweet or tangy or fruity or spicy.
2. Coffee has much more caffeine than tea.
3. Coffee drinks are very unhealthy. Tea is delicious even without milk or sugar.
4. Coffee is only good hot. Even room temperature tea is still delectable.
5. Coffee is only worthwhile because it has caffeine. Decaf teas are yummy too.
6. Coffee is for everyone. Even Dunkin Donuts. Tea is so much more refined.

I made a spectacularly energizing (a.k.a. probably very high caffeine) tea blend the other day. It was a Tazo Maté Tropic teabag and a Stash Green and White Fusion teabag. The complexity of flavors from the three different tea leaves as well as the flavor additives in the Maté Tropic created a tea which was both delicious, invigorating, and mood-enhancing (or I could have just been having a good day).

Try it.

Pearlicious

I just invented the best dessert. Ever.

I often have that problem where I want something sweet yet satisfying, but ordinary desserts don’t cut it. I’ll wander through my kitchen (mentally – it’s not that big) and have a nibble here, a nibble there, and before I know it I’ve had several cookies, a handful of chocolate chips, a few spoonfuls of sorbet or ice cream, and probably a handful or two of cereal. But this impromptu tapas-style desserting fails to satisfy.

Read a food or health magazine and they’ll tell you there’s nothing as satisfying or as delicious for dessert as a piece of fresh fruit. Fruit? The dessert connoisseur in me scoffs. But on some level they are right. The nights when I grab an apple for dessert I find myself feeling fuller, more satisfied, and healthier than the graze-and-eat-whatever-sugar-I-can-find nights. Then again, there are the days – most days, that is – when an apple or an orange just won’t cut it, when you need something just a little sweeter and a little heavier. Pure decadence.

Tonight was one of those nights. I began the graze. A handful of chocolate chips. A scoop of goat’s milk ice cream (to satisfy the ice cream-loving lactard that I am). And then I stopped and reevaluated my methods. Neither healthy nor satisfying, and much too processed for my crunchy, back-to-nature lifestyle. (Ha.) And then I remembered the crazed fruit addict who spent $40 on oranges bananas and pears at Whole Foods the other day. Those barely underripe pears hanging out in the fridge – maybe I could do something with them.

First let’s realize that I am not much of one for delayed gratification, despite my love of baking. I am the one who fills up on raw dough or batter and then doesn’t care much either way for the finished product. I didn’t want to have to wait to roast or poach or bake or whatever it is you do to pears to make them deliciously dessertified. But what is it about a baked pear or apple that really makes it so good? Not the warm gooey smooshiness. So not my style. It’s the brown sugar caramel goodness and spicy cinnamon that really gets me going.

Hence my spectacular dessert invention:

No-Bake Baked Pear:

1 D’Anjou pear, cut into thickish slices (1/2”)
Small spoonful of brown sugar sprinkled over slices
Generous shaking of cinnamon sugar over slices

Let sit for a couple minutes to allow the sugars to juice and sweeten the pear, which should still be firm.

Then gobble up, making sure to clean every last crumbly crumb of brown sugar from the plate with pear slices, finger, and/or tongue. (Manners? What?)

I ate in. In about two minutes. It was amazing. I am full. And I am going to eat this every day for the rest of my life. Or until I run out of pears, which will bring me to … two days from now.

Oatmeal Schmoatmeal

What is it about oatmeal, that ubiquitous breakfast food? What is so attractive about a smiling old Quaker caricature? Why is it so appealing to everyone? Well, almost everyone. Until yesterday, I had never had oatmeal. In my entire life. Don’t believe me? You should. I don’t lie, not about my food.

And you know what? It’s not that bad, but it’s not that great either. To me, it tastes a little bit like Passover food, which makes me think I’m eating it about two months early.

Here’s how it happened. I decided last night, during a brief period of insanity, that I wanted a late night (10 p.m., I’m such a rebel) snack. I had already had approximately 3 Thin Mints (I love Girl Scout season), 2 Brussels cookies, a couple handfuls of cereal, and some raw cookie dough, all of this after dinner. For some reason I was convinced I still needed that little something else before I would be really satisfied for the night. So I said to myself “tonight is the night I like oatmeal.” To be honest, oatmeal actually disgusts me. It’s all gloopy and smooshy and wet and lumpy and warm. I think it’s the warm that pushes me over the edge, because very few other textures actually bother me. But I decided to put all that behind me and convince myself that I liked oatmeal.

So I grab Mr. Quaker Oats in his funny columnar canister off the shelf (well obviously I own oatmeal, I have to make cookies after all) and read the directions on the back. I decide to go with the heart healthy (denoted by a <3) serving size and measure out my cup and a half of water (wouldn’t want to waste precious milk on a science experiment), which along with a sprinkling of salt – it calls for a dash – I set to boil on the stove. I measure out three-quarters of a cup of old-fashioned rolled oats and watch impatiently as my pot of water finally boils (ha! take that, old wives). As directed, I put the oats in the salted water and stir occasionally for closer to ten minutes than the five that are called for. I decide it’s probably done because it looks abhorrently mushy and I taste it gingerly before adding any of my pre-selected mix-ins (banana, cinnamon, brown sugar, and A LOT more salt). It tastes like – well – warm splooshy Passover food. In a word, disgusting. Despite this initial letdown I decide to proceed with my experiment (bananas are cheap, not such a waste) and add an entire banana in slices, a generous dosing of cinnamon, and about half a handful of brown sugar. Mix, mix, mix, mix, taste …. blechhh! Needs salt. Salt, salt, salt, salt, mix, mix, mix, mix, cinnamon, cinnamon, mix, mix, taste, alright! Tastes okay, not great, but I don’t really like this kind of thing anyway. I have three bites, and I’m full. No wonder they say eat oatmeal to lose weight. It is the densest, heaviest, most filling breakfast I could possibly imagine. I had three bites and I was so full I was nauseous.

After picking out all the bananas and eating them (I guess it would have been a waste after all), I decide it’s a waste to throw out all that perfectly good, fresh, hot oatmeal, so I consult my resident oatmeal guru and housemate Hillary, who eats oatmeal practically everyday (although she makes her in that funny thing called a microwave) if she thinks it would still be good tomorrow (today) if I keep it in the fridge. She thought it would be fine, so I covered it up in Saran Wrap and stick it on the top shelf, next to my precious milk, and promptly forgot about it and went to watch the Daily Show.

This morning, I thought I would try some cold oatmeal. Hey, it couldn’t have gotten any worse, right? Again, I had two bites, was a little nauseated, and decided to have some peanut butter toast for breakfast instead. Always a good idea, peanut butter toast. But still I stuck it back in the fridge. I would not throw it out until it was all gone or gone rancid.

But tonight again I was in the mood for a late night snack and the first thing I think of is my cold oatmeal. It couldn’t have been as bad as I thought, right? At this point it is cold, cinnamony, full of banana flavor but with no banana pieces, and infused with delicious brown sugar. Sounds delicious – what could possibly be bad about that? Oh, the whole OATMEAL part. The mushy gooey slimy Passover food just wouldn’t taste GOOD. No, it wasn’t bad, just not as good as I wanted it to be. But I ate it. All of it.

I am sitting here with an empty oatmeal bowl next to me, and you know what? Maybe I’ll make it again, but save it in the fridge for a day because cold oatmeal really is the only way to go in my book. Or maybe that’s a waste of oatmeal, and I’ll use the rest of my oatmeal (can’t call it a box…) silo to make cookies or something more rewarding than HEALTHY breakfast gloop.