I promise I have food to discuss, but I give a quick and dirty roundup of a recent exciting first for me. While it has to do with food, it falters the line of my normal musings, though it does explain some of my latest absences.

D and I took a quick late summer journey to the city of my birth (Chicago) as well as a border crossing to his grandmother’s home for a State Fair. While D has joined me in Chicago in the past, he has never been witness to the golden summer that makes Chicago the pride of many (myself included). I would say, you never experience this city until you have walked its’ dazzling skyscraper shoreline in the heat of summer.

It was a voyage of firsts: D had his first deep dish pizza as well as his first taste of a true Chicago-style all-beef Vienna hot dog. The winner? It must be the hot dog because one week later D complained about being hungry after work: “if I was in Chicago I could just grab a hot dog anywhere.”
“But you’re in New York, there are hot dog vendors on every corner?!”
“It’s not Vienna– It’s not as good.”

True enough. Those all-beef dogs in natural casings, 2 pickles, neon relish and a large fresh slice of tomato make my mouth water any day (and I’m usually not a hot dog fan). We would leave Chicago for Indiana and the State Fair– my turn as newbie.

I love Indiana and spending time with D’s grandmother (and family in general). If it wasn’t for a not-to-be-mentioned altercation with a canoe and some rapids, the time we spend in Indianapolis is always pleasant (play. even the rapids). This time, we would attend the State Fair. My first State Fair ever.

State Fairs are a fabulous event. They bring the community together and (in the Midwest at least) really make one realize the breadth and hold that agriculture still has on this country (which is essentially forgotten if you live in or near a city). My minor “problem” with the State Fair? That the pork food tent is within smelling distance of the swine show barn, the lamb food tent is a sniff away from the lamb show barn, cows near the beef food tent, poultry near the poultry, etc.

Funny that when I started vocalizing my hankering for some bunny on a stick in the poultry and rabbit barn people gave me the evil eye—I could smell bacon frying up while contemplating the birth of 13 piglets! Isn’t that wrong?! No worries, there was plenty of chicken, but no rabbit (or bunny) for sale at the food tent.

We caught a few shows in the lamb barn. Spoke to the people who told us how judging was done, but couldn’t really explain what was being judged. Watching sheering right before these animals headed off to show was a good time in itself. Many beautiful animals– and even spoke with a man who raises Shetland Sheep. As we left the distinct smell of lamb kebabs filtered into the arena.

Next, it was on to the draft horse barn. No worries– no glue or meat was being grilled up outside this barn (the only one), but there was plenty of overpriced beer.

The above-mentioned poultry and rabbit barn followed. The loudest barn by far, I can see where all the phrases come from: “Hen party,” “louder than a hen house.” I could picture them all plopping their eggs away, knitting little bonnets and gaggling on about what Suzy over in pen A did— can you believe?! But really, it’s amazing to see the variety of chickens. Some of them are truly spectacular. Once I get enough land, neighbors be warned, I’m getting a hen house for fresh eggs! And did you know, hens with red earlobes produce brown eggs and hens with white earlobes produce white eggs? At least that’s what I was told. Interesting if true.

A quick stop (of many) to the diary barn for milkshakes, some real whole milk extra thick chocolate milk, and a few other treats. Then, it was off to the Pioneer Village. Here, I finally met with my corn meal lady (mentioned here). Face to names, we’re b-f-f. I also met with my Sorghum man (been ordering from him too lately)—if anyone would like these numbers, please email me direct and I will provide them to you. Of course, I was soon informed, any trip to Pioneer Village is not complete without yer’ cracklins’ (pictured above).

Wound down to the 4-H agro barn for the results to a few other competitions: best honey, largest gourds and best hay bale. Learned a thing or two about honey, picked some up from the local apiary. Found the largest cheddar cheese construction (2,400 pounds) which made me never want to eat cheddar cheese again (and I love cheese!). We eventually left the State Fair by way of the old time pharmacy. I was pretty much born forty years too late– or a city girl instead of a farm girl.

Tags: travel, farms, hot dog, Chicago pizza.

Below is a post I stuck up back in November 2005. It was one of my first posts. Two years ago, about this time, I went with a friend to Lebanon. Not to turn this into a political blog space or anything, but the events of the past two weeks have been on my mind (about 8 years ago I was in Israel and have a similar fondness for the country and people, Lebanon is just a little closer to memory now).

I guess because this has all been on my mind I made some baba ganoush tonight. It is a recipe a half-Lebanonese friend gave to me. This, along with her hummus, Lebanonese potatoes and Fol I make often. Maybe more will be made in the coming days…

Although I would like to make a few changes/ additions here and there, I think it’s best to keep it unaltered. This is the Lebanon I remember two years ago. It will not be the same. Here is the original post:
————————————————–
November 2005

As the weather turns toward the worst, and gray days become a common thread, I cannot help but linger on the past, warm and fresh.

In the 1940’s, France withdrew from Lebanon. To this day, it is in a summersault between old and new world– reinventing and revamping its character. Walking down the streets, signs still read in French and Arabic (or Arabic and English). Fruit stands on every corner press fresh juice to order, and pistachio pastries laced with honey waft towards the nose. Out of the city, vineyards can be found on hillsides that neighbor crosses mounted high on a village church. It is a country that still understands hospitality, where no meeting between friends is able to last under two hours, and where you will always be offered a bottomless cup of fresh Arabic coffee, laden with cardamom.

Between 1975-1991, civil war tore through Beirut and its surrounds. From above, the city’s white stone buildings are iridescent in the sun and the mountains roll away reflecting the cerulean Mediterranean. Salt is ripe in the air and mingles with trees as lizards dash through legs of a traveler to the safety of a forgotten bullet hole in a nearby structure. Roam the streets and notice wires crisscross overhead in a forgotten and haphazard desperation of gaining electricity during the war– still in-use. Or suddenly come upon a blocked-off road, where the ground is yet to be re-stabilized. Inside bombed-out-building-carcasses, families create wall-less homes on top floors that overlook city lights. The new hottest club is constructed beneath sacred ground, and luxury high-rise buildings blossom around Roman and Phoenician ruins; barely visible and utter surprises to stumble upon amongst the ever –present cleansing and rebuilding. This is the crazy struggle between tradition and modernity.

The Muslim call for prayer rings out. It is a subtle undulation that flows off the salt air notifying the beach bums to rotate their tanning. Women walk the streets fully veiled or deeply bronzed in mini-skirts flaunting the latest fashions. Saudi oil heirs on vacation take to the corniche with their wives to find groups of men smoking nargeela, (Lebanese sheesha or flavored tobacco) lounging in home-brought plastic chairs while others fish in the sea where boys swim. Along this walk, the smell of cardamom is thick with Arabic coffee vendors hocking their product amidst others that grill and sell corn.

Food is fresh and fabulous. From cheeses, olives and fresh flat breads at breakfast, to the sweet fruits that complete every meal: fresh figs, dates, melons and mangoes. You dine on what is in season—not what is an able import. Flavors are intensified by this freshness of seasonality. The weather is perfect– not too dry, and the peach-hued sunsets over the sea make up for any humidity that may linger.

Travel beyond the beach bum days and clubbing nights of Beirut. Hire a private driver and take the road to Balbaak and Ksara in the east, near Syria (easily done in one day). Some of the oldest ruins are found at Balbaak with an ancient population that continued to build upon what was already there, allowing centuries upon centuries of ruins almost indecipherable from the previous. In Ksara, cooling caves under a mountain vineyard, are host to wine tastings.

South near Saida, a soap factory is hidden in the old souq, where soap is still made “the ancient way”– with boiled olive oil and ash. The juices and kebabs in the souq are the freshest I have tasted (fresh grapes taste like rose water, we are told “it’s the sea you taste”)—some of the best shwarma can be found here too. Continuing south, there are generations-old glass blowing studios on the way to the beaches and ruins of Tyre (a port town a stone’s throw from the Israeli border). This city, once a major trade route between Israel and Egypt, as well as the rest of the Mediterranean, has since been left in disrepair from civil war days, retaining its beauty.

North in Byblos we find where the written word began and paper spread throughout the world. Mountain peaks overtake the eyes where (surprise) temperatures dip low enough for skiing in the winter. It is difficult to leave such a paradise that is a true Eden.

If you cannot make it to this beautiful Garden, I beg of you to taste it in the home. These below recommendations are quick, easy, and require minimal cooking:

Gather some fresh Lebanese olives, feta, tahini (sesame seed paste) and flat bread (or pita) from a middle-eastern market (most groceries will carry these products as well). Ask for zataar (a thyme-based herb mixture with oregano and sesame) and lebne (a yogurt-like cheese). You will also need 1 large eggplant, extra-virgin olive oil, a lemon, garlic, plain yogurt (optional) and a selection of your favorite seasonal fruits. (When I eat these meals, I like to use the feta pictured at right. It reminds me of what I bought in Lebanon)

Place the olives in a dish to eat as-is. Do the same for the feta. Put the lebne on a separate plate, sprinkle with zataar and pour about 1 Tbl ev olive oil over the lebne. Serve with baba ganoush (recipe below), flat bread, and your favorite salad. Use the flat bread as a spoon to scoop up the baba and cheeses. (A popular great-tasting snack is to brush olive oil on a piece of flat bread and dust with zataar; pictured. Toast until lighly browned in a toaster oven. It tastes great with the lebne and feta seasoned this way).

Below, a family recipe for Baba Ganoush (thank you A for your Lebanese wisdom):

BABA GANOUSH. (10 min cook,15 min setting time, 5 min prep). This recipe has a great smoky flavor. Recipe is the same for hummus (with only about 10 min prep– minus the eggplant and flames, everything else is the same. Just buy a can of garbanzo beans (chickpeas), drain the liquid, and use a blender instead of a potato masher).
———————–
1 large eggplant
2 Tbl tahini
juice of 1 lemon
4 Tbl olive oil.
1-2 cloves garlic, crushed (or to taste)
1/2 cup plain yogurt (Optional, this gives the Baba a creamier consistency. Without it, you
may need a few more Tbl olive oil to cut the Baba’s thickness)
fresh pepper (to taste)
sea salt (to taste)
brown paper bag
potato masher
large bowl
———————-
1. Brush the eggplant with olive oil. On a stove’s open flame, cook eggplant. Rotate periodically (easy with long tongs) until all sides are crisp from flame and eggplant wilts thoroughly. The eggplant will also become saturated and heavy with juices (some of which may leak onto stovetop). For a large eggplant, this process should take about 10 min. (This method gives the Baba its smoky flavor. Another option is to wrap in foil and bake the eggplant for about 30 min. I have never done it this way, and cannot guarantee the smoky flavor, but I assume it would cut back on juices flowing onto the stovetop).

2. Place eggplant in brown paper bag and sit the bag in the large bowl (eggplant will continue to leak juice). This continues the cooking process of the inside of the eggplant and begins to cool it. Leave in bag 15 min.

3. Open bag, peel and discard as much of the eggplant’s purple skin as possible. Cut off and discard vine head. Place remaining meat (with seeds) into large bowl.

4. Mash with potato masher (you are left with a better consistency than using a blender which can destroy the seeds and turn the Baba pasty).

4. Add remainder of ingredients, mix.

5. Top off with another Tablespoon of olive oil and maybe some paprika or parsley for color.

NOTE: A Palestinian friend of mine dices and de-seeds a ripe vine-tomato and stirs it into the Baba. An Egyptian friend swears tomato is wrong and one can never have too much garlic in Baba adding at least 5 cloves to her recipe. Both these are optional, tasty additions.

One now out of control garden, trains, planes, ferries, buses, mountains, 1 rented car, the Underground and 1 glacier later… D and I have returned. Safe and fairly ill we crawled through our door, greeted by the kitties, who were happy to have us home— happier to be fed.

London was fab. A quick stint gave us one stunning play, Dying City, by Christopher Shinn, and one great musical, Sunday in the Park with George, by Stephen Sondheim. Both beautiful and should be seen by all. Other highlights include Neal’s Yard Dairy with their wide selection of cheeses from around the United Kingdom and Rococo Chocolates. Their little bag of house truffles and organic dark chocolate cardamom bar offered delectable flavors in the coming days.

A 1 pence flight (how can you not love Ryan Air?) found us in Norway ogling at the fjords. Stunning, magnificent, imposing, breathtaking, Lord of the Rings multiplied by twenty; they should be seen by all in a lifetime. The delicacies of Norway include caviar at breakfast, stacking lox higher than pancakes at breakfast and getting nary a disapproving glance, Bergen’s fish market (where a 1/2 kilo (just over 1 lb) of shrimp, caught and boiled that morning goes for $8. Peel and eat overlooking the harbor.), and a slew of smoked fish.

We jumped over to the highlands of Scotland for leg 3. The Isle of Skye was mystical enshrouded in clouds, the glens provided sweeping landscapes, and Ben Nevis (the highest peak in the UK) proved conquered, even in white-out conditions and a snow-capped top. Wee drams during whisky tours (no “e” in Scottish whisky) were an educational and peaty experience while the dairies we popped in at dished up some smooth spreads and great knowledge of the trade.

All in all, a fabulous time, though I am quite stunned to find no sheep crossing my path in New York City.

The Epic Journey has begun. Leg 1 took us into London for 2 full nights of theater, cheese shops, artisanal chocolates… On to Norway where we found a 1 pence flight so how can it be resisted?

The fjords are coming…

In a previous post, I mentioned feasting under a whole moon on the beaches of Sinai. Even with the moon’s reflection off the water, stars were out in the millions and I gazed drunk with delight at the sky. My cohorts and I, sun-kissed and hungry after a day of swimming in perfectly clear, warm waters, were famished. We stumbled away from the beach to the bright bungalow for the meal that awaited us. Forever when I eat a pomegranate, I will think of this beach and our shared gluttony.

A, one of my closest college friends, was moving to Cairo for the year. I did what any selfless friend would do in the situation and sent her off properly, accompanying her with one week in Cairo and one in Lebanon. D, another friend of ours, is Egyptian. Even though she would be knee-deep in her studies (a blossoming PhD), D offered to take us to her beach hideaway for a weekend away from the craze that is Cairo. (D also introduced me to roasted pigeon on this trip, a succulent feast that should be eaten with your hands, courtside the main Cairo market.)

D’s mother is yet another food goddess incarnate I have met in the voyage of life. Upon our arrival, she fluttered about, pushing her homemade and fresh delights onto us: Stuffed grape leaves, stuffed eggplants, chicken, lamb, flatbreads, olives, fruits, and countless varieties of feta. At each meal we merrily plunged more and more food into our bellies, and D’s mother, in true Middle Eastern hospitality, kept pushing more onto us. In between bites I discussed recipes with her, especially for my favorite, the stuffed eggplants. We would finish each meal with fresh brewed Arabic coffee on the roof, smelling the salted air now tainted with cardamom, while D’s mother would hurry off to bed in preparation for her dawn beach appointment.

These eggplants are sweet, savory and delicious, but a poor imitation of perfection (they also look like a ruptured artery in the picture). If I could sweep D’s mother away from the beach to make these for me I gladly would. Even better, I prefer spending my days with her on the beaches of Sinai being stuffed to the gills with her home-cooked amusements.

STUFFED EGGPLANTS W/ POMEGRANATE & PINE NUTS
Serves 6. Prep time= 45 min. Cook time= 45 min.
8 small (4-5 inch in length) eggplants (if you can find smaller ones, by all means use them– just purchase more. They are easier to clean and will be more flavorful.)
Filling
¾- 1 lb ground beef (or lamb)
1 cup wild rice
1 onion, chopped
4-5 garlic cloves, minced
5 Tbl pine nuts, toasted
5 Tbl pomegranate molasses (available at specialty, Asian and Middle Eastern stores)
8 fresh mint leaves, chopped
juice of ½ lemon
1 pomegranate, deseeded

1) In a saucepot, begin the rice according to the directions on the package
2) While rice is cooking, in a large saucepan, on medium heat, add meat, onion and garlic. Break apart meat and cook until meat is browned, stir occasionally.
3) While meat-onion-garlic is cooking, toast the pine nuts (in a toaster oven on medium or 5-10 min in the oven on broil) until lightly browned. Deseed the pomegranate.
4) Hollow out the eggplants: Clean and cut the tops off. Use a small knife to start the process then a spoon to scrape the remaining meat (and mostly seeds) out. Be careful not to puncture or tear the skin (eggplant skin is fairly tough pre-cooked so this should not be too much of a problem). Hollow out the eggplant as much as possible. It is okay to leave a small perimeter of meat along the edges. (To do this quickly takes a little practice so keep an eye on the meat and rice. If either are finished just turn the burners off).
5) At this point, the rice should have about 10-15 min cook time remaining. Preheat the oven to 350F. When meat is done, turn stovetop off, add pine nuts, pomegranate molasses, mint, lemon juice, and pomegranate seeds. When rice is complete, add rice to the meat mixture (or add the meat to the rice if the saucepan is not large enough). Stir until evenly blended.
6) Using a spoon, stuff the filling into the eggplants, packing it in well (as you see ice cream scoopers pack a fresh pint of ice cream). Once done, cover with aluminum foil and bake on middle rack for 35-45 min, until eggplants are soft.
7) Keep any remaining filling to stuff more eggplants, zucchini or bell peppers—or just eat it on the side.

As the weather turns toward the worst, and gray days become a common thread, I cannot help but linger on the past, warm and fresh.

In the 1940’s, France withdrew from Lebanon. To this day, it is in a summersault between old and new world– reinventing and revamping its’ character. Walking down the streets, signs still read in French and Arabic (or Arabic and English). Fruit stands on every corner press fresh juice to order, and pistachio pastries laced with honey waft towards the nose. Out of the city, vineyards can be found on hillsides that neighbor crosses mounted high on a village church. It is a country that still understands hospitality, where no meeting between friends is able to last under two hours, and where you will always be offered a bottomless cup of fresh Arabic coffee, laden with cardamom.

Between 1975-1991, civil war tore through Beirut and its surrounds. From above, the city’s white stone buildings are iridescent in the sun and the mountains roll away reflecting the cerulean Mediterranean. Salt is ripe in the air and mingles with trees as lizards dash through legs of a traveler to the safety of a forgotten bullet hole in a nearby structure. Roam the streets and notice wires crisscross overhead in a forgotten and haphazard desperation of gaining electricity during the war– still in-use. Or suddenly come upon a blocked-off road, where the ground is yet to be re-stabilized. Inside bombed-out-building-carcasses, families create wall-less homes on top floors that overlook city lights. The new hottest club is constructed beneath sacred ground, and luxury high-rise buildings blossom around Roman and Phoenician ruins; barely visible and utter surprises to stumble upon amongst the ever –present cleansing and rebuilding. This is the crazy struggle between tradition and modernity.

The Muslim call for prayer rings out. It is a subtle undulation that flows off the salt air notifying the beach bums to rotate their tanning. Women walk the streets fully veiled or deeply bronzed in mini-skirts flaunting the latest fashions. Saudi oil heirs on vacation take to the corniche with their wives to find groups of men smoking nargeela, (Lebanese sheesha or flavored tobacco) lounging in home-brought plastic chairs while others fish in the sea where boys swim. Along this walk, the smell of cardamom is thick with Arabic coffee vendors hocking their product amidst others that grill and sell corn.

Food is fresh and fabulous. From cheeses, olives and fresh flat breads at breakfast, to the sweet fruits that complete every meal: fresh figs, dates, melons and mangoes. You dine on what is in season—not what is an able import. Flavors are intensified by this freshness of seasonality. The weather is perfect– not too dry, and the peach-hued sunsets over the sea make up for any humidity that may linger.

Travel beyond the beach bum days and clubbing nights of Beirut. Hire a private driver and take the road to Balbaak and Ksara in the east, near Syria (easily done in one day). Some of the oldest ruins are found at Balbaak with an ancient population that continued to build upon what was already there, allowing centuries upon centuries of ruins almost indecipherable from the previous. In Ksara, cooling caves under a mountain vineyard, are host to wine tastings.

South near Saida, a soap factory is hidden in the old souq, where soap is still made “the ancient way”– with boiled olive oil and ash. The juices and kebabs in the souq are the freshest I have tasted (fresh grapes taste like rose water, we are told “it’s the sea you taste”)—some of the best shwarma can be found here too. Continuing south, there are generations-old glass blowing studios on the way to the beaches and ruins of Tyre (a port town a stone’s throw from the Israeli border). This city, once a major trade route between Israel and Egypt, as well as the rest of the Mediterranean, has since been left in disrepair from civil war days, retaining its beauty.

North in Byblos we find where the written word began and paper spread throughout the world. Mountain peaks overtake the eyes where (surprise) temperatures dip low enough for skiing in the winter. It is difficult to leave such a paradise that is a true Eden.

If you cannot make it to this beautiful Garden, I beg of you to taste it in the home. These below recommendations are quick, easy, and require minimal cooking:

Gather some fresh Lebanese olives, feta, tahini (sesame seed paste) and flat bread (or pita) from a middle-eastern market (most groceries will carry these products as well). Ask for zataar (a thyme-based herb mixture with oregano and sesame) and lebne (a yogurt-like cheese). You will also need 1 large eggplant, extra-virgin olive oil, a lemon, garlic, plain yogurt (optional) and a selection of your favorite seasonal fruits. (When I eat these meals, I like to use the feta pictured at right. It reminds me of what I bought in Lebanon)

Place the olives in a dish to eat as-is. Do the same for the feta. Put the lebne on a separate plate, sprinkle with zataar and pour about 1 Tbl ev olive oil over the lebne. Serve with baba ganoush (recipe below), flat bread, and your favorite salad. Use the flat bread as a spoon to scoop up thebaba and cheeses. (A popular great-tasting snack is to brush olive oil on a piece of flat bread and dust with zataar, pictured. Toast until lighly browned in a toaster oven. It tastes great with the lebne and feta seasoned this way).

Below, a family recipe for Baba Ganoush (thank you A for your Lebanese wisdom):

BABA GANOUSH. (10 min cook,15 min setting time, 5 min prep). This recipe has a great smoky flavor. Recipe is the same for hummus (with only about 10 min prep– minus the eggplant and flames, everything else is the same. Just buy a can of garbanzo beans (chickpeas), drain the liquid, and use a blender instead of a potato masher).
———————–
1 large eggplant
2 Tbl tahini
juice of 1 lemon
4 Tbl olive oil.
1-2 cloves garlic, crushed (or to taste)
6 Tbl plain yogurt (Optional, this gives the Baba a creamier consistency. Without it, you
may need a few more Tbl olive oil to cut the Baba’s thickness)
fresh pepper (to taste)
sea salt (to taste)
brown paper bag
potato masher
large bowl
———————-
1. Brush the eggplant with olive oil. On a stove’s open flame, cook eggplant. Rotate periodically (easy with long tongs) until all sides are crisp from flame and eggplant wilts thoroughly. The eggplant will also become saturated and heavy with juices (some of which may leak onto stovetop). For a large eggplant, this process should take about 10 min. (This method gives the Baba its smoky flavor. Another option is to wrap in foil and bake the eggplant for about 30 min. I have never done it this way, and cannot guarantee the smoky flavor, but I assume it would cut back on juices flowing onto the stovetop).

2. Place eggplant in brown paper bag and sit the bag in the large bowl (eggplant will continue to leak juice). This continues the cooking process of the inside of the eggplant and begins to cool it. Leave in bag 15 min.

3. Open bag, peel and discard as much of the eggplant’s purple skin as possible. Cut off and discard vine head. Place remaining meat (with seeds) into large bowl.

4. Mash with potato masher (you are left with a better consistency than using a blender which can destroy the seeds and turn the Baba pasty).

4. Add remainder of ingredients, mix.

5. Top off with another Tablespoon of olive oil and maybe some paprika or parsley for color.

NOTE: A Palestinian friend of mine dices and de-seeds a ripe vine-tomato and stirs it into the Baba. An Egyptian friend swears one can never have too much garlic in their Baba and adds at least 5 cloves to her recipe. Both these are optional, tasty additions.

I can remember the first time I tried this bizarre fruit. I had often seen them in grocery stores and my thoughts were always that they were in the squash family. After all, they do appear sort of squashish. I must have been around twelve when I was seated around that kitchen table. I can remember it was just after a soccer game. I cannot remember if we won or lost. I cannot remember who the others were that surrounded me at the table. I do remember the Goddess that imparted her knowledge of this other wordly fruit upon me. She was tall, motherly (not my mother), and had long hair, the color of autumn bark that fell in large, heavy ringlets framing her face.

If I dig deep enough, I can almost remember a heavenly glow that illuminated her as she picked up the fruit and sat us around the table. She did not say anything, but sliced through that thick, leathery, scarlet skin. The blood of the seeds spread in a puddle at the base of the fruit and out dropped a few glistening pulps. I was amazed. How could such an exterior produce such a marvelous interior? (I would later learn Mother Nature has her way with this when it comes to fruits and vegetables.) I was given a few rubies and eagerly popped them in my mouth. The juice was amazing. Giddy at my new discovery, I reached out for more…

The pomegranate truly is an ethereal fruit. It is not native to North America, though is now grown in California and some parts of Arizona. I think the best arrive to us from their origin in Iran and other reaches of the Mediterranean, over to India and into the Himalayas. They mature when most other bounty of summer has faded, best from October to February. The trees are a beautiful spectacle to witness in person. (I came upon some recently in China when I was amazed at seeing fields upon fields of light green maturing pomegranates. I was told they were for local consumption– how lucky they are!) And when you stand under one, it as if you are transplanted to the Garden of Eden…

The apple, though an equally lovely and quite a delicacy itself, is not native to the warm climates of the Fertile Crescent and Mediterranean. Though it is widely believed that Eve ate an apple from the tree, many argue it was actually a pomegranate (though what an akward image of Eve having to tear through the skin rather than lightly bite into an apple). Michael Pollan in his Botany of Desire, makes note of this fact as well. I like to think it was the pomegranate– A rare, delicious discovery of sweet fruity granate!

In Spain, they are known as “granada”. In France, it is “grenade” and where we receive the namesake grenadine syrup. (When I was younger I always thought grenadine syrup was the sweet syrup of cherries.) In the Middle East, it is not pomegranate syrup that is popular, but pomegranate molasses (and can be found in many local Mediterranean groceries). It is a delicious addition to most any meat dish (amongst other things). I recently roasted a chicken spread with homemade sundried tomato-basil pesto and drizzled with pomegranate molasses (very easy and surprisingly decadent for chicken). But, if I must use pomegranate molasses again, I wish to be transported back in time. I wish to re-create myself sitting in my bathing suit around the table of some of my best friends. My skin sun-kissed and salty, at a dinner of Egyptian feta, olives and homemade grape leaves stuffed with lamb, wild rice, and pomegranate molasses, beside the calm, warm waters of the Red Sea on the Sin’ai Peninsula at dusk. That is my Eden where I’ll happily dine on the forbidden fruit whenever asked.