Crusty Bits

The best bits....
That bottom layer of the paella pan where the rice comes up like an olive oil fried, crispy spanish crepe. Dip it in the remaining aioli left in the bowl, like the perfect potato chip. Just nothing else like it.
A Sunday roadtrip across the island of Mallorca to hike the trails from Deia to Soller, and a paella from the heavens. Easy to call this place home.











As usual on my current life path, I will be relocating yet again. I have been hired as a families private chef for the month of June in Vienna Austria. I've just returned to Mallorca today after a week trial in the beautiful city of Vienna. I'll be here for 10 days to pack up my things and to cater a yoga retreat by this inspireing yogi.
Why do I ever unpack my bag in the first place...?

Camel Nights

One of my favorite photos of our first night on beach Camel Safari near Sidi Kaouki, Morocco.
.... My thighs hurt just thinking about it.

Ginger Rain

I had never been in the desert when it rains before. This was a first.
The dark clouds moved into the Palmeria in Marrakech, and I watched the palm trees fix their leaves firmly to the rights side of my window view. The ginger colored sand and dirt darkened in color as the rain fell. A hot date with a hammom, a pair of soft leather baboush to cover my cold toes, and a dinner of warm tangine never felt so good. The tangine is a traditional Marrakech dish made only by men- lamb or beef are cooked on the bone, in a clay vase buried in Hammom ashes. It's different than a well known tagine which has more of a steaming effect while cooked over an open fire.

My recent trip to Morocco was one with a familiar scent. Bits of India still lingering on my skin, words, and the yoga classes that I lead each morning on rooftops under African sun. The reconnection with Morocco and it's beautiful people was an easy one, like bumping into an old friend. And the organized chaos when stuck in a traffic jam out of the airport of trucks, bikes, camels and donkeys felt comforting and alive again.

"Moroccan woman have delicious hands" - Our beautiful chef, Bahija says as she tosses hot barley coucous with her bare hands. We season finger-fulls of appropriate spices into our slowly caramelizing onions and raisins which will top the 2 hour-steaming couscous. Bahija and Peggy pick up the finely ground powder and hold it at a slight angle above the onions. With a quick twitch of momentum in the wrist, the cumin, cinnamon, ginger and turmeric come raining down like a fine mist. Touching every exposed onion in sight. The steam sends up clouds of spice. The ginger burns your nose sightly as it rises back up.


3 weeks of warm Barley bread, rose scented aragon oil, 100 year old Moroccan rugs, spontaneous 3 day camel safaris, oranges dusted with cinnamon, goats in trees, and ginger rain in the dessert of north Africa.




Didn't think I would write these words so soon... but.... I am, yet again, boarding a plane tomorrow.
More soon..... x -A

Red Tassels & Sweet Carrots

“Paradise runs under the feet of mothers” – An Arabic saying from the Koran


Morocco hosting the latest space for transformation, cultivation of new awareness, and a feast of the senses. Assisting this Culinary tour again, for the second time in the past 6 months. The Marrakech air blanketed me like a warm duvet as I departed my flight and walked along the familiar tar mat. Going from a beach hut with bucket showers in South India, to a 5 star Moroccan Riad in an oasis outside of Marrakech in just a matter of days. Jnane Tamsna has been a home to PM Culinary Adventures for the past 10 years. Saffron yellow walls dotted with traditional sacred-style of keyhole doorways, hand woven Berber rugs sached through hallways lined with tea lights, and sugar-like spring carrots laced with preserved lemons in my chicken tagine. A truly special place that authentically speaks the language of Morocco.


The traditional architecture of Morocco has lured such an intense curiosity in me, more than any other country. Dars and Riads are scattered throughout the tiny streets within the walls of the old city-The Medina. From the outside, Marrakesh life captivates you in it's controlled chaos in an instant. Parting the clouds of motorbike exhaust and aromatic street food smoke, as you wind through narrow streets framed by dusty blush colored walls. A Riad (translated as; Paradise Gardens) is a traditional Moorish house in Morocco. A home that is sectioned off into 4 interior gardens within the Riad walls, with rooms opening up to the center. Plants such as Hydrangea's and Plumerias are capable of growing within the security of Riad walls, and a fountain or water feature pierces the middle like a strategically placed sun dial. It's that Magical contrast of being in a whirlwind of chaos and then instantly in a serene Paradise Garden, that to me, is the enticing beauty of Morocco.



Preserved Lemons

5-6 small organic or meyer lemons
Sea Salt (about 3-4 T per lemon)

Cut the lemons from top to bottom in quarters, but not all the way through. Basically a cross, all the way down, but still attached. Stuff each quadrant with approximately 1 Tablespoon of Salt.
Put 5-6 lemons (however many will fit) into a glass jar and seal the jar tightly.
Leave lemons on the kitchen counter for 3 weeks. Turn them upside down, then right side up every day.
Can keep for up to 1 year in the pantry or refrigerator.
Avoid using metal to scoop the lemons out of the jar.

I must say though, that regardless of how easy it is to get lost with yourself in a place like Morocco, I am still being haunted by the "what's next??" part of my life. Closing the chapters of India, and soon on Morocco, I feel a weight in my chest of anticipation and unknown.... I fell upon this quote that I had tucked away from my India journey. Reading it's words over a cup of mint tea, I chose to let go yet again, an to succumb deeper and deeper into the spell cast upon me by the city of Marrakech...

"Be patient towards all that is unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not seek the answers, which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer." -Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a young poet

7 days

Wdnesday- India


Friday- London


Sunday- España


Tuesday- Marrakesh



Made it to Morocco from India in 7 days. With necessary stop overs in London and Spain to properly re-introduce me to the world of meat eating and beer drinking. My clothes continue to smell like incense, and beach sand still lingers about my backpack from an Indian journey that continues to shape the path I now walk.
A love affair with Mother India is sure a hard one to get over. I shall heal my yearning heart with layers of Ras Al Hanout, rosewater, and smooth Moroccan wine...

February??

The month of February is overrated anyway! So I "chose" to skip it all together in terms of blogging.

Actually, I am just neck-deep in my Yoga Teacher Training course in South India. Therefore writing anything about yoga, breathe, body, mindfulness, yada yada... Is strictly prohibited from this blog at the moment. When I have minutes away from a shala or book on pranayama and meditation, then I slip my mind into daydreams of life at a cutting board. A weighted chef knife in my right hand, wafts of fresh sage and thyme that lay resting in a small glass to my left, an opened bottle of Gin awaiting my assistance to mix with tonic, and a beautifully butchered lamb shoulder resting on crinkled brown paper. Ok, I do believe it is officially time to leave this life as a sober vegetarian!!

I did have one moment in Mysore last month where I was able to cook alongside a local woman for the day, and subtly remind myself of that empowered pulse in my veins for the love of making food. I relaxed myself in a haze of warm ghee smoke that rose from the pan, and freshly ground cardamom that could only speak the language of India.

Cucumber Dosa with Coconut Chutney
Jeera Rice with Cabbage and Cashews
Roasted Eggplant and Cilantro Curry
Plantains fried with cardamom and jaggery
Gulab Jamoon (Indian doughnuts in rose syrup)







I'll post some recipes with proper measurements when I can get back to Spain... or California. But at the moment I have 1 more week to breathe Indian air, drink up the haze of a rising sun from the meditation shala window, and cultivate a plan to bring one of these chai wallas back with me....

A beautiful mantra given to me by a friend last month in Kerala

Om Harim Shrim Klim
Maheshwari
Bhuvaneshwari
Anapurnayei
Swaha

Meaning;
Seed sound, the great illusion. All that is form.
Seed Sound Abundance, The energy & Power of Life.
The Great Goddess
Goddess of Earth
Goddess of Food & Nourishment
An offering into the sacred fire. Dissolving the illusion of separation between "I" and "Thy."


I will really miss you, India.

Banana, Coconut, Yoga. Repeat.

I was the first to arrive by 6:00 am to my new Yoga Shala in Mysore. The new kid has to be extra on time for her first day. I kicked my rainbow sandals off under the bench that I sat cross-legged on, and faced the door to my new space of education, alignment... and maybe some torture. Slowly over the course of the next 15 minutes, 10 practitioners emerged from bicycles, rickshaws and motos out of the dark morning light. Each individual sat on a respective bench, tucked their legs into lotus and closed their eyes. Not a single individual gave me a little "good morning!" wink, nudge, half smile... nothing. They moved over the pavement almost motionless, AND to top the strange behavior... they all wore matching tee shirts. The teacher opens the door. I grab my displaced flip flops and place them at the end of the perfect shoe line next to the shala door, as I enter the realms of unknown.

As the new kid, I sit in the front row to receive special instruction on whatever I just signed my life away to here. The row of folks behind me begin to chant in unison, then they each get up and begin a designated practice. I can feel the movement behind me as these cult-yogis whip through sun salutations. My curiosity is killing me, as I am just focusing on seated leg lifts and toe points. Baby stuff! So I slip a little eye over the shoulder maneuver to take in some of the chaos behind me. Before I can even focus my eyes on a moving yogi, I am blindsided by my straight-faced, no nonsense, yoga teacher- "focus on your breathing, keep your eyes on your practice, how can you master a pose that you are not thinking about? Think about it. And breathe." Caught cheating the first day. Great.
A breakfast is provided to us after the pranayama meditation class. I sat there in half lotus, suppressing tears of pain as my hips burned and feet turned a cold blue color. Pressing my hands harder in mudra, and trying to focus on anything but the severe discomfort in this 30 minutes from hell... I began to think about this soon to be breakfast hour.
"What will they serve us!?"
"My tuition was awful expensive... this must be good food then!"
"I need a chai.. like whoa"
I hear a motor running close to the shala walls- "mmmm...banana cashew smoothies, I bet!"

30 minutes finishes and I unwind my cold, limp legs which slap down on my mat like dead pieces of meat. And continue my daydreams on breakfast outside the Shala's Door of Doom. Feeling light headed, and avoiding an obvious limp (gotta impress my fellow yogis with my fierce, first day strength) I exit the shala to find my breakfast- A perfect row of small 3" by 5" foil containers lay in a perfect line on the outside bench. A brown spotted banana lay atop each.

"You've got to be joking me?"

I soon find out after my first practice that it is highly recommended for all students to consume 1 cooked vegetarian meal a day (provided in the tiny foil box) and 2 meals of 10 to 15 bananas each, followed by plenty of young coconuts to replace our water. Ok, now you've just gone too far Mr. YogiGuruSan!!! What am I supposed to focus on in class if it's not the next meal to follow??
...om shanti...

First week down in my intensive banana, coconut, yoga training alongside the matching tee shirt, silent-Sally, yogis from around the globe. My body aches, my ego is suppressed, and my intrigue heightened. I'm in awe of how this teacher can bring awareness in, and push me to levels I've never explored before. But damn straight, I'm sneaking some onion dosas, palak paneer, papaya lassis, and cardomom pastries in this yogi diet mix!

You can take a chef out of the kitchen. But you can never take the foodie out of the chef!