Cured.

Although Salmon and curing have nothing to do with the Arcapalargo Island of Samblas, Panama where I am right now. It does in fact have something to do with the breakfast I serve each day.

Before we ventured off into the deep of Colombia and Panama (more appropriately descriptive photos/stories to follow...) I cured salmon. Alot of salmon.

Heavy on the salt, sugar, juniper and citrus skin. The combination of ingredients used for curing create an intoxicating cloud of aroma. The sweet simplicity in the art of curing has captured me recently. Small jars in my refrigerator are filled to the brim with carrots, cucumbers, Asparagus or shallots. All awaiting their destination alongside a panini, in a bloody mary, or layered inside Korean lettuce wraps. It was just the next step for me to properly cure a fish... or two.

Cured Salmon

(Recipe adapted from Barbara Lynch)

Note: the recipe is doubled for 4 sides of salmon. Don't let the excessive amount of citrus rind intimidate you. It makes all the difference in the outcome. Plus it is an instant air freshener!

1 c Juniper berries

2 c Coriander

12 Bay leaves

1 c Peppercorns

4 c Salt

4 c Sugar

10 Lemons- zested

14 Limes- zested

4 oranges- zested

Grind spices and mix with salt, sugar and zest in a large bowl. Cover salmon, top and bottom with curing mixture. Place the salmon top side down, and refrigerate for 48 hours. Rinse flesh clean and pat dry. Slice salmon thinly, at an angle from tail end to the top.

The coral colored flesh of the salmon is offset by the bright pink papaya on the opposite end of the table. Before forks are lifted by guests, and my pans are just hot enough to make eggs a reality, a knock at the aft deck draws our attention. Opportunities to buy local, and very recently caught seafood from the Kuna Indians is rare at times. Placing a large pot of water on to boil before I run down and receive the lively crustacean of the day. Breakfast has yet to begin, but lunch is already in the works.

Enjoy. -A

Crepe Romance

 His thin frame, pubescent facial hair patches, and slight overbite approach the table, as he delivers my plate. With monotone speech and no eye contact, he informs me.
"This is a saigon crepe. It's stuffed with vegetables and thin strips of pork and shrimp. We recommend that you wrap pieces of the crepe in the lettuce here and add the sauce. Enjoy. Thank you."
And he quickly walks away.

I come twice a week to this Vietnamese cafe here in FL. I order the same plate, every time..... and every time, I get the same robotic breakdown from the bust boy. But alas, I don't really care much as I have FINALLY found a perfectly made Banh Xeo. Which holds as a beautiful reminder to the sweet country of Vietnam.

I was welcomed to Vietnam by boat in November of 2009. Taking my time from the rivers of Can Tho in the south, and up to the Islands of Halong Bay. Captivated by the life, culture and food of this country, it quickly became one of my favorite places on the planet.

The crispy crepe- Banh Xeo, was one of my main targets in culinary stalking. I searched each city for every woman or man, nestled in the corner of a cafe making fresh crepes and stuffing them with thin strips of pork and shrimp, and fresh bean sprouts. Seated snuggly on my tiny plastic stool, curbside in bustling cities as Hanoi and Ho Chi Ming. I found a strange, euphoric, serenity in taking to a plate of this gastronomic wonder, in a proper roadside Banh Xeo.

I must learn how to make this.

I challenged myself plenty (alongside Kim, we tested various recipes for Banh Xeo.) Making the rice flour from scratch, to letting the batter rest for 24 hours or even 48 hours. There is a package of Banh Xeo mix (Ingredients: rice flour, mung bean flour, corn starch, tumeric. Just add coconut milk.) It is naturally gluten-free and vegan, and super quick to whip up and fry. Served alongside a mountain of herbs and greens with a side of nuoc cham sauce on the side.
I make it on the boat for my boss at least once a month as a sweet ode to Vietnam.

This recipe is great, because the addition of cornstarch aids in the ultimate crispy-factor. The style is really close to what you get from a package mix of Banh Xeo. Which I have found in almost all Vietnamese markets, from California to Florida, and Vienna to Madrid.
Another recipe here is more like what I have attempted by scratch. Either recipe or mix, you'll find making a crispy crepe simple and approachable.... and overwhelmingly addictive.

I'm back on the boat cooking in the galley, and leaving Florida (FINALLY!!) for Columbia next week.
But I will soon be back to visit my awkward bust boy, while he gives me the lengthy breakdown on my favorite Vietnamese wonder. I'll listen with care while I await the "...enjoy. Thank you." while diving head first in to the crispy bliss of Banh Xeo.


Enjoy. Thank you.

-A

Mothers

The Art Of Motherhood

Bea

I am completely in awe of my girlfriends whom have entered so beautifully into the world of motherhood recently. There is something so amazing about that transition from woman to mother. The respect and support I have for these women has developed so much, while they have created and fallen in love with these little nuggets.

Dahlia

Elodie

Uma

Liam

Massey

Siena- Massey's big sister

This is a beautiful piece of Becoming Mothers, by Peggy Markel.


My curiosity remains at a distant, as my life continues to unfold in ways that deserve my selfish attention to the path of a gypsy chef, not a gypsy mama..... But the moments that I can spend with these children in the last year(s) has made my heart smile in a whole new way.


A happy belated Mothers Day to all the mamas out there!
Especially my own mom, whom will even come to a dirty shipyard in Florida just to spend time with her daughter!


with love and light,
-A

Rhubarb

Roasted rhubarb on granola. Towpath Cafe, East London

After a couple weeks of Intoxicating Gnawa music, camels, blush-colored sand, and tender braised meat in a cumin-saffron ballroom of flavors.... it was again time to exit the incredible country of Morocco.

I flew to London.

First of all, let me tell you that two of my most incredible discoveries happen in this trip to London:

I flew BMI for the first time. Possibly the ONLY airline on the planet anymore that not only allows 30 free kilos of luggage in economy (as opposed the normal 22-25 kilos.) Which is extremely helpful in supporting my ever growing leather-baboosh and spice tagine collection.
But also............ All drinks are free in economy class.
Qu'est-ce que c'est?!
drinks.are.free.

Peggy and I settled into our seats (with a surprising amount of leg room, might I add) and dug through our purses of change, separating out the Euros and Dirhams and Dollars, to find the Pounds needed to buy ourselves a gin a tonic. But alas, all drinks are free on BMI flights! Make note!

Now the other incredible discovery was the sweet canal-side cafe of a dear friend of Peggy's.
Towpath Cafe  is located in East London. It hugs the canal, as small miss-matching tables and chairs pour out onto the sidewalk. You place your order in with Lori, the owner and dreamer of this adorable cafe. Leaning up against the wood counter to order a cappuccino, and lusting over the olive oil cake, dark chocolate walnut brownies, marmalade almond tart, and spice cake. There are few things as beautiful in my world than to find a perfectly constructed, intimate, and tasty cafe.

A chalkboard menu reads:
Fresh blood orange juice
Porridge with apple compote
Granola with roasted rhubarb 
Grilled cheese sandwich with chili jelly
Bread and house-made preserves

Items served on tin plates or mix n match diner-style porcelain. Simple and inviting. I order the granola, a cappuccino..... and a slice marmalade almond tart.

Roasted Rhubarb- Towpath Style

Rhubarb

2 Bay leaves

Zest of 1 Orange

1T Peppercorns

1/2 c Lemon juice

4 Cinnamon sticks

1 Vanilla bean

1/4 c honey

Clean rhubarb well, and peal off any tough, stringy bits. They tend to not soften quite right. Cut rhubarb into 2" chunks and place into desired roasting pan. Zest the orange into thick, wide strips, with very little white pith. Split the vanilla bean down the center, and scrape out the seeds from the middle, placing all in the roasting pan. Add the remaining ingredients, and mix all together well to coat the rhubarb chunks. Place on the middle rack of a preheated 325 degree oven for 25 to 30 minutes. You can lightly mix or shake the pan once during the roasting, but be careful not to mix it very often as the integrity of the rhubarb may change. Serve at room temperature atop granola and yogurt. (This is my favorite granola recipe to use.) Or even enjoy it on ice cream, scones, in a trifle...... whatever tickles your rhubarb fancy!

We sat for hours lingering over pots of tea, and recounting stories from recent trips to India, Morocco and Jamaica. Trying to gather our words and experiences while the essence from those trips begins to slowly fade away and melt off our skin. After days of meeting at the Towpath and and sipping coffee cups dry, Peggy and I separated ways and I took a train to Bristol to meet an old friend.



Even though It's pouring rain in Florida as I write this, and that I currently live in a hotel room (sans cooking possibilities...) Still,  the thought alone of rhubarb and English market stands has me remembering that this really is spring time. And that soon enough, my granola will be topped with roasted, red rhubarb in celebration of the winning discoveries of late in London.

Cheers,
-A

Glimpse

A feast through the eyes.
Morocco.

Essaouira Blues

This shade of blue found in Morocco is unlike any other blue. Essaouira does it best, from the sea and sky, Portuguese-style fishing boats, and the blue shacks lining the port- seafood, pastries, and fresh grapefruit juice. 

 When fresh grilled seafood meets cumin and salt, and the wind continues to swirl around you, there is no where in the world you'd rather be.

This is Essaouira in March....

I may have landed back in Florida for the next 2 months..... but my mind is still in Morocco.

-A

Off The Surface

A story of scrub. A sense of belonging..... and an arugula salad

 I slide into my red, goat-leather baboosh slippers as if hugging an old friend. It's Dusk in Marrakech and I have barely arrived to my room in time to turn around and head back out. Around a few corners and down narrow pathways. I arrive to a familiar place, and strong rumbling surrounds me as I walk down the staircase leading below the earth's line. Two women, barefoot, in sweat-soaked clothes, walk us down even deeper. Double wood doors open up to a room of steam and dark marble. The sound of running water is constant and our naked bodies are directed to either end of the room where marble benches await. 

In my commitment, and well lets face it, complete obsession with the culture of hammams, it is always the first thing I do when arriving to Morocco. This is an ancient tradition of pouring water and communal bathing, a time to strip away and scrub down to the raw of things. I adore it. To be surrounded by warmth, in water and in trust. The trust in the hands of a beautiful Moroccan woman, whose fingertips are reminiscent of shriveled raisins. She moves effortlessly with eucalyptus soap, buckets of tempered water, and a rose-soaked towel to rest on my eyes. I release completely, the weight of my body that of a deep savasana. I succomb to the water.

In Morocco, every city and village has 3 elements available for it's community- Mosque, fire and water.

The call to prayer is sung 5 times a day from the mosque, as everyone faces east towards Mecca, praying and with gratitude in unison. The communal ovens are managed by men who work from early in the morning to bake the barley bread among wood-fire. The element of water comes in as the Hammam. 

Women of the community may have the mornings for a hammam, or every Monday and Thursday (for example) and the men will take the off times. Women peel off the layers, and come together for scrub and connection, gossip, and unity. Abrasive mitts take to skin like baboush take to feet, and the transformation begins. Layer by layer, peeling off and washed down the marble bench.

 My mind goes elsewhere....to cumin, dates, and mint tea.                                                                                            

It is Springtime in Morocco, and the hammam is my spring-cleaning. Out with the old and off with the surface. I'm also convinced that it may in fact be the ultimate remedy for jet lag or hangovers.... just sayin'

Marrakech dinner of fish pastilla - fish, vermicelli, preserved lemon, chili pepper, and red cabbage. A glass of French rose, and greens from the garden. The arugula is flowering now and carries a sharp bite and peppery edge. It goes beautifully with the salty-tang of preserved lemon in the pastilla. A salad dressing of grapefruit juice, olive oil and aragon oil is simple and completely complimentary to our local salad greens. 

Morocco has always had a very special way of blanketing me with intrigue, magic, and awakening my senses. From clean skin and scrub, to spiced coffee and bitter-sweet arugula. I am forever at the mercy of your beauty, and what still awaits to unfold.

Shukran Bisef.

-A