Ok, so a lot has happened over the last weeks, and, clearly, blogging isn’t one of the them. But, cooking was one of them. So we need to get back on track. I came home from Albania last week, and it was a great trip. Not without 9 person vans packed with 12 people as we teetered along mountain roads from one little town to the next. And dress up sessions in cultural garb with the dear sweet woman who has the job of taking care of all the costumes for the children in the town to wear for the once a year festival. And cooking. Cooking in a little make shift kitchen, equipped with a small electric stove with 1.5 working burners, a wood burning stove and a gas torch burner for the times when the electricity went out. The torch burner turned out to be the most reliable of all equipment. And food I cooked in this kitchen was a mix of good and, well, not so good. It was all an adventure, and very fun to say the least.
The kitchen at Kevin's apartment in Gramsh, Albania.
Menu(s) from Albania:
A ‘tomato gravy’ made from the random ingredients found at the ‘European’ market* (#62)
Garlic bread (#63)
A ‘tomato gravy’ made from the random ingredients found at the ‘European’ market* (#62)
Garlic bread (#63)
Lentil soup (#64)
Tabouli salad (#65)
So the tomatoes were bitter and really needed a hefty dose of sugar to be counter that flavor, but after the long day of touring the town and fighting the jet lag, the meal was good. A store owner donated a bulb of garlic to our order and we purchased bread from the little tiny store across the street from Kevin’s apartment from the woman who makes bread all day long. I felt like Belle walking around her ‘quiet, provincial town’ in Beauty & the Beast. It was a dream for a person like me.
And for all the townspeople who watched me very carefully the entire time I was visiting, it was more like an odd alternate universe for them, as this very bizarre looking red-headed woman snapped pictures of their town and read at the coffee shops. I really love to travel, and yes I get how ridiculously cliche that sounds. However, it is true, and I try to do a good amount of traveling. But, you see, when you look like me you have to get used to one thing in particular while traveling. People stare at you. Not the “oh, there’s a foreigner” stare that most of you are likely used to, but the “whoa. I’ve never seen anyone who looks like that!” stare. Or, as I affectionately call it, the Animal-in-a-Zoo stare. My dear friend Irene, who lives far too far away, says people just think I look exotic. Although I agree, I’ve just had to accept the fact that it isn’t the Catharine Zeta-Jones, or Penelope Cruz exotic. It is more like when you walk through the sloth bear part of the National Zoo with that puzzled look on your face.
I’m over it. It never stops me from smiling and stumbling through “hello” in another language. Which I always do, and they always laugh. And so do I.
So the tomato gravy was sub par, and the garlic bread, after I burned the first batch in the over that I had no idea what to expect from, was yummy.
So the tomatoes were bitter and really needed a hefty dose of sugar to be counter that flavor, but after the long day of touring the town and fighting the jet lag, the meal was good. A store owner donated a bulb of garlic to our order and we purchased bread from the little tiny store across the street from Kevin’s apartment from the woman who makes bread all day long. I felt like Belle walking around her ‘quiet, provincial town’ in Beauty & the Beast. It was a dream for a person like me.
And for all the townspeople who watched me very carefully the entire time I was visiting, it was more like an odd alternate universe for them, as this very bizarre looking red-headed woman snapped pictures of their town and read at the coffee shops. I really love to travel, and yes I get how ridiculously cliche that sounds. However, it is true, and I try to do a good amount of traveling. But, you see, when you look like me you have to get used to one thing in particular while traveling. People stare at you. Not the “oh, there’s a foreigner” stare that most of you are likely used to, but the “whoa. I’ve never seen anyone who looks like that!” stare. Or, as I affectionately call it, the Animal-in-a-Zoo stare. My dear friend Irene, who lives far too far away, says people just think I look exotic. Although I agree, I’ve just had to accept the fact that it isn’t the Catharine Zeta-Jones, or Penelope Cruz exotic. It is more like when you walk through the sloth bear part of the National Zoo with that puzzled look on your face.
I’m over it. It never stops me from smiling and stumbling through “hello” in another language. Which I always do, and they always laugh. And so do I.
So the tomato gravy was sub par, and the garlic bread, after I burned the first batch in the over that I had no idea what to expect from, was yummy.
The lentil soup and tabouli was good. And, the good news is, I can now chopped parsley with a butter knife. Yes, Kevin is lacking in the sharp knives department, so I patiently chopped parsley with a 3 inch paring knife and a butter knife. If you’ve chopped parsley, you understand.
Tabouli Salad
That being said, it was great. Kevin and I, his two PCV site-mates and Qeni, the dog, had a little dinner party. In Albania. While the sun went down over the mountains across the river. It was so lovely, and the people were so warm. I would most certainly go back.
*Kevin and his mates affectionally nicknamed this market the European market, because well...it is clean. Not because it is large, holds anything European or otherwise. Just FYI.
*Kevin and his mates affectionally nicknamed this market the European market, because well...it is clean. Not because it is large, holds anything European or otherwise. Just FYI.
The view from my room.
235 to go...
No comments:
Post a Comment