Poland: Mushroom Soup

I couldn't let my holiday vacation start without making one last legitimate global blog effort.

A few weeks ago, when I meant to get back on track, I tried my luck with the wine bag of fun and drew Poland. Immediately, my mind flooded with memories of the best thing I ate when I was in the country - mushroom soup.

(And seriously ... I did not cheat this time. I really pulled out Poland!)

Anyway ... I visited Poland when I was in college on a tour for college newspaper editors. The trip involved spending two weeks riding around on a tour bus through three different countries with people I didn't know, but shared some sort of odd passion with. That's the same trip that took me to Israel. Anyone who ever worked at one knows it takes an interesting person to run a college newspaper. We had a whole bus full of them.

Poland was the first country we hit, the first phase of the trip when everyone was still feeling each other out out to determine who would be the most fun and who would, well, be a little creepy.

We visited Auschwitz and Warsaw and Krakow. I remember seeing the old ghettos, walking through a beautiful rose garden dedicated to Chopin and touring the castle where all of the Polish kings are buried. Then there was some story about a fire breathing dragon that went after sheep and young virgins until being defeated by a noble young suitor. I still find that story amusing for some reason. Maybe because there's a large, metal statue that spits fire at the castle in the dragon's honor. I didn't see a memorial to the dashing young suitor.

But anyway...

I'm sure we ate all of the standard Polish fare - kielbasa, pierogis - the few days we were there. But the only thing I remember eating was the mushroom soup. Maybe that was because I found it warm and comforting when everything else around me was kind of odd and unfamiliar.

It was a day or two into the trip, but we were running around doing and seeing so much it felt like we had been at it forever. I remember it was cool and dark outside when the bus pulled up at this dimly lit tavern. I was tired and drained, overwhelmed and still a little jet lagged when I took my seat at the long wooden table with the people I barely knew for my pri fixe dinner.

The soup was probably a starter to some other standard Polish meal, but it's the thing I remember most about being in Poland. That and the dragon.

It came in a bread bowl that absorbed the yummy juices from the mushrooms. It was somewhat creamy but with big chunks of delicious wild mushrooms, apparently a big staple in the Polish diet.

I don't know where we ate it, or what exactly was in it, but it stands out in my memory as one of the best things I've ate in my life. Seriously. Maybe it was just my memory.

So soup was the first thing I thought of when I pulled Poland out of the wine bag. Finding an awesome mushroom soup recipe.

I studied different versions on the Net and came up with my own that seemed to combine some of the best flavors, and then some. I used a combination of dried porcini (extremely flavorful), shitake and portobello mushrooms.

It's pretty good, but still doesn't stand up to the one I remember. I guess all good things come with practice.

Polish mushroom soup

6 tbsps. butter
3 yellow onions

6 carrots, chopped

4 stalks of celery chopped
1 cup Italian parsley, chopped

1 cup fresh dill, chopped

1/2 cup thyme, chopped

1/2 cup rosemary, chopped

3 bay leafs (dried)

2 oz. dried porcini mushrooms, chopped

1/2 lb. shitake mushrooms, chopped

3 large portobello mushroom caps, chopped

8 cups beef broth

Salt, pepper

2 cups sour cream

2 cups whole milk

1 loaf sourdough bread

What to do:

Bring half of the beef stock to a boil. When it is boiling, add the dried porcini mushrooms to "reconstitute them." Cook for about five minutes and then let drain, saving the even more yummy beef broth for later.

Melt 3 tbsps. of the butter in a pot and then saute the onions until soft, about five minutes. Add the carrots and celery and then let look for about 10 minutes. Season with some salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, melt the rest of the butter in a saute pan. Add all of the chopped mushrooms and let cook for about five minutes until soft.

Add the mushrooms to the other vegetables and stir in the herbs. Add the beef broth - both the reserved and the rest - and bring to a boil. Let simmer for about 30 minutes.

After the soup has simmered some over low heat, add the sour cream and milk. Add salt and pepper to taste. Let cook over low heat until ready to serve. The soup will thicken as it cooks. Serve with crusty bread.

Germany: Holiday non-traditions

This week I got an e-mail from my uncle inquiring about German holiday traditions. Apparently my nine-year-old (soon to be ten-year-old) cousin is working on a class project that involves researching the food and desserts of her heritage. Me being an advocate of education, food (especially desserts) and different cultures, helping her was right up my alley.

Given that - as noted before - my family is made up of bad Germans, we didn't really have any cultural holiday traditions. So I turned to some of my German friends for answers. It then only seemed appropriate to make a virtual return to the homeland to blog about it.

The first person I hit up was one of my editors who lived in Germany for a few years. He suggested something I later learned is a Feuerzanger Bowle, which involves heating red wine and traditional holiday spices in a fondue-like pot. Sounds like a pretty good idea, but perhaps not appropriate for an elementary school holiday celebration. (Although, I'd be amused to score an invite to that party and write a story about it.)

I then turned to my friend Nina, who was born in Germany, for some more kid-appropriate suggestions. She came through big time with some of her holiday favorites.

Without further ado ...

Stollen: This appears to be a yeast bread filled with nuts, currants, etc. Kind of like a fruit cake, I guess. And what do you know, Food Network gives us this recipe from Sara Moulton's old show. (I actually met Sara Moulton on one occasion ... this was before my current heyday of stalking celebrity chefs. We'll save that story for another blog posting).

Springerle: These are anise flavored sugar cookies made with molds to create intricate impressions on them.

Brat Apfel: Baked apples. Pretty self explanatory. Some of the "recipes" I found for baking apples involve serving them with ice cream, caramel or cinnamon.

Lebkuchen: Cookie (apparently Germans like cookies) similar to gingerbread, but softer. The Internet abounds with recipes.

And of course, Germans can be credited with coming up with Advent calendars, the Christmas tree and gingerbread houses (in the spirit of Hansel and Gretel).

I guess that means we weren't terrible Germans. We did do all of that. In fact, we used to go over to my Grandma's house when we were little and decorate a little gingerbread house. And last year, my sister decided to resurrect this tradition and we did a house on Christmas with Grandma. The difference is now my sister and her boyfriend take their cookie baking and gingerbread house making quite seriously, a warning to Bobby Flay if he ever comes around looking for a Throwdown.

The joy of a well-stocked spice cabinet

Some of my friends and I recently had a conversation about the cost effectiveness of cooking. There is a prevalent belief out there that cooking at home saves you oodles of money. Yes and no.

The major expense comes in the upstart costs of stocking your kitchen cabinets, especially when you have a palette for exotic dishes from dozens of different ethnic styles.

There is a distinct satisfaction, however, when you start accumulating so many of these ingredients - namely spices - that you have them on hand and don't have to be buying new ones with every recipe. That's when your grocery bills really start to plummet.

Even just two months into this little game, I am finding that I have built myself a sturdy arsenal of spices and am getting to the point I don't need to buy any. Take, for example, the pho I made this week. I had most of the spices I needed, along with the onions, garlic and some other veggies. I ended up spending just $25 at the grocery store - most of that on meat - and will likely get five days worth of dinners.

Now that's what I call cost efficient.

Appreciation

One of the things about cooking is that it really helps you appreciate the art of coming up with a good recipe.

Take, for example, cooking something out of From Emeril's Kitchen, which features recipes from his restaurants. Most of the recipes are extremely nuanced and complex. Not difficult, per say. Just extremely detailed, right down to making a veal stock for the Creole Meuniere Base that goes with a number of recipes.

Same goes for Bobby Flay's Mesa Grill cookbook. One recipe for a habanero duck pancake requires three different sauces, at least one of which requires you to make a completely different sauce. Oh. And the duck recipe also calls for chicken stock. But no worries. The recipes for all of these sauces and stocks are in the cookbook.

To think these guys have people doing this every day at their restaurants.

I have had several moments of zen appreciation preparing some of the recipes for this blog, particularly when it comes to the detail that goes into working with certain ingredients. The pho was definitely an example of this.

I mean, come on. Simmering a broth for 10 hours? Who ever thought of that?

There were a few things with the pho recipe I found suspect, so while I was waiting for the broth to finish I did some research. It seemed as far as basic technique goes, and ingredients for the most part, Emeril was right on.

The big thing that kept tripping me up was the accumulation of what seemed to be copious amounts of fat in the broth, especially after I put it in the fridge. A thick, jelly-like substance layered across the top of it.

It seemed like my takeout from Vietnamese restaurants had done the same thing, but it still bothered me. I thought maybe using the short ribs was a bad idea. Other recipes I found suggested ox tail, which might have been leaner. I had also skipped draining the broth through the cheese clothe the first night, so I reheated it to do this and that did seem to skim some of the stuff out of it.

Some more research indicated that there might not be anything wrong with my broth. Apparently the gelatin-like substance is not actually fat, but collagen from the bones you boil. That made sense. Some Vietnamese people will let their pho broth sit over night and then scrape the layer off the top before serving. Others apparently keep some of it on hand to add in extra for flavor.

Either way, at some point there was clearly a lot of thought put into this issue, which I can appreciate.

Vietnam: Pho, Part II

The first time I ate Vietnamese food I was a freshman in college.

A group of us from the college newspaper, The Daily Orange, had driven down to Washington, D.C. to cover some protests at the IMF and World Bank. This was on the heels of the big World Trade Organization protests that year in Seattle.

We traveled a lot at The D.O., and those trips are among some of my best college memories, despite the fact you always ended up with an eclectic mish mosh of personalities with nothing in common except for a passion for journalism.

It seems like there were five of us on that trip, driving the five or so hours together from Syracuse, NY and crashing at a Super Eight motel just outside of Washington. We packed so many people in those rooms that somebody always got the floor. I'm not sure how I got through my four years there never having that privilege.

We registered as credentialed members of the media and met up with some kids from SU, spending the better part of the day traipsing around Washington following these peace-loving activists.

The most vivid memory I have of that day was walking with this group of 20 or so protesters as they stopped outside of the World Bank building. All of the sudden, about three times as many police in riot gear appeared and came charging at us. Protesters started running everywhere and the riot police went after them.

For some reason it seemed like a good idea to pull this reporter I was with into a little alcove of a building we were standing in front of to get out of the fray. But one of the riot police saw us there, came up and pointed his gun of pepper spray right at us.

"We're with the media," I yelled, holding up my press credentials.

"I don't care," he said, dousing us with pepper spray.

I guess it could have been worse. I watched one of the guys we were with get clubbed by another officer. But the thing that really sucks about pepper spray is that after the initial sting, it calms down, but reactivates when it gets wet.

Then it started raining.

We kept moving forward though, tired, wet and burning, following the protesters around Washington and covering the story. I don't remember how we did it or when, but at some point we must have filed something.

I don't think we ate all day, and at the end of many hours out and about we all agreed to meet up on M Street. Somehow we ended up at this Vietnamese buffet.

It was a small buffet, no bigger than a typical kitchen table. I don't remember what I ate. All I remember is that everything was amazing. There was just something about the the wholesome warmth of the flavors that I found so comforting after all this drama. Besides, I was really hungry.

I fear my pho pales in comparison to my memories of this first Vietnamese experience. The broth seems to greasy, despite my efforts to skim the fat from it. The short ribs were probably a bad call. Some other recipes called for ox tail.

Still, for some reason as I sat on the patio last night smelling the aroma of the beef stock brewing with the scent of the onions and anise it brought back all these memories.

I guess it's one of those things I may never know whether that Vietnamese place was really that good, or if it was the moment that made the memory.

Vietnam: Pho

So I cheated again this week, but for good reason. As previously noted, I've been feeling a little under the weather and was craving a hot, soothing, yummy soup to make me feel better.

At some point this week I found myself craving Vietnamese soup, the spicy liquid being a perfect remedy to clear your sinuses. I hit Pho Cali on Main Street and had the beef stew (which is actually more like a soup) that I love. It made me feel so much better that I decided this weekend I would make my own version of the national dish of Vietnam, Pho.

I searched Food Network and found this recipe for "Emerilized" Banh Pho Bo, Vietnamese beef noodle soup. Emerilized sounded pretty good to me, so I figured I had a winner.

I went back and forth a few times on whether to actually try this today, given that it would take six hours to cook the broth. Would it really be worth the wait to eat it? Please reference "Emerilized." Yes. Yes I decided it would be.

The recipe calls for a meaty bone, and I decided to go with short ribs. I also don't have a grill, so I just stuck the onion stuffed with anise under the broiler until it got blackened. The best thing about this dish is the smell of the anise as it boils on the stove for six hours. It made my kitchen smell amazing!

I threw a few serrano peppers in as the broth cooked just to, well you know, kick it up a notch.

But I got a late start to all this, and with three hours left to simmer the broth at 6:30 I started to come to the realization that this wouldn't be ready for dinner. Once the broth is done, there's all sorts of other things that needed to get done. And quite frankly, I was pretty tired.

So the plan at this point is to let the broth boil some more, and then finish the pho off for dinner tomorrow.

To be continued ...

Hungary: Goulash

I cheated again this week. I just picked a country that I felt like, instead of pulling one out of the wine bag of fun. This weekend, I felt like a tasty goulash. There was just something about the lure of a meat and pasta one pot dish that I found enticing.

The last time I made Hungarian goulash someone asked me how it is different from regular goulash. I don't think it is. Goulash originated in Hungary, where it was traditionally prepared by herdsmen (gulyas in Hungarian ... thus the name goulash). So I guess that's why some people call their goulash Hungarian. I suppose it's like saying Italian pasta. Perhaps unnecessary...

Either way, goulash is a soup or stew typically made with beef, veal or lamb, vegetables and paprika. The paprika is the distinguishing ingredient. Some variations have it served over pasta.

I poked around the Internet for new recipes and they all looked pretty similar so I decided to go with this Rachael Ray recipe I had made before. It seems to have all of the traditional elements and when I tried it the last time it was, as Rach might say, delish.

Traditionally, the goulash may be made with tougher cuts of meat, like the shank or shoulder. I guess that gives it a richer flavor. This one calls for ground meats, which are a little easier and quicker to work with.

I followed the recipe for the most part, with a few exceptions. I added an extra onion, and cooked the onion in the pot before adding the meat to give the meat extra flavor while cooking. I also seasoned the meat with the salt, pepper and paprika - about twice as much as the recipe called for - before cooking because I thought it gave it more flavor. Oh, and I added about a tablespoon of cayenne pepper to give it some heat.

I also probably used about half the macaroni and a fraction of the sour cream. The last time I made it the sour cream flavor kind of overpowered everything else, so this time I just gradually added it in to the mix, probably using about half as much. Same goes for the macaroni.

After I mixed everything together I let it sit on the stove for a while so the macaroni could absorb the juices and flavor from the stew. The garnishes may seem odd, but I do recommend the gherkin pickles and radishes. The crunchy texture is a nice contrast to all of the softness of the goulash.

Coming to terms with reality ...

I've made the executive decision this week to officially change the name of the blog to reflect the reality I won't get through all of the countries in 80 days. You may notice it now says "80-Some."

The whole Jules Verne thing was clever and all, but just not realistic. The characters in the book must not have had full-time jobs or friends to hang out with. Who knows. I never read it.

Either way, the point of the project was to be fun, not stressful. Besides, don't we all have enough deadlines anyway? And, being in a deadline driven industry, I know exactly how you really handle one that can't be met. You push it.

So who knows when this will all wrap up. I'm hoping I'll still finish within a year of when I started. But you just never know what will happen ...

A day without a recipe

If you're one of those people constantly glued to the Weather Channel, you probably know that it's been really freaking hot in Florida. Hot and humid. The kind of heat that makes you sweat as soon as you step out of your apartment. The kind of humidity that just weighs down your body and soul, making you feel worn out and tired.

The kind of weather that you can put up with for a few months, but that you're ready to see break around the time everyone else in the country is out looking for pumpkins.

Well, thank God for FINALLY sending some relief to Florida.

This weekend we're experiencing what we Floridians call a "cold front." I don't think the temperature dropped below 70 all day, but that's cold after months enduring temperatures upward of 90. (Although not cold enough that I couldn't go for a little swim ... quite lovely because I was the only one there. Apparently the children who usually inhabit the pool on the weekend aren't so hardy).

Either way, I was having such a lovely time drinking my morning coffee on the patio, looking out over my little retention pond without breaking a sweat I thought "Wouldn't it be great to just spend the whole day like this?"

So I did. Well minus some time for the workout and the swim.

Maybe it was also the universe's way of getting me to slow down a little. As I sat on the patio, I thought back on the past few months and realized not a weekend day has passed that I didn't spend much of my time in the kitchen, quite often much of the day pursuing ambitious recipes under a tight deadline of expecting company.

So today I relished in the art of just laying low, catching up on some magazines and chilling on the patio. Besides, it was also a good opportunity to finish off one of the backlog of dishes in my freezer - the Comoros chicken from a few weeks ago.

La ropa real

So if anyone is looking to try a recipe from my blog, I'm going to make an official recommendation to try the rope vieja I posted last week courtesy of Emeril.

The recipe yielded quite a bit of the shredded meat, and I spent most of the week pushing it on friends and eating it for lunch at the office. For starters, I was surprised some people had never heard of the traditional Cuban dish (or in my case Dominican). But those who observed me eating it at work thought it looked and smelled delicious. Some even asked for the recipe.

Perhaps the greatest compliment of all was from my friend Cat, who has Cuban friends in Miami. She tried it last night. Apparently it was only the second one she had. The first was from a Cuban grandma. She ranked mine right up there.

I can't take any credit, though. It all goes to Emeril. The recipe is really fairly easy to make, just fairly involved. And just remember that it does take a while.

My second recommendation would be another one from Emeril - the Greek Moussaka. That one, however, is really for the fairly ambitious home cook. Slicing and frying all that potato and eggplant is pretty tedious.

Tunisia: Couscous

I could probably knock three or four countries off the to do list with my preparation of the national dish from Tunisia. Seriously, three African countries - Algeria, Morocco and Tunisia - claim couscous as their national specialty.

Either way, I wasn't going to, like, go roll my own semolina flour (maybe next time : ) So I thought I would prepare a traditional vegetable and chick pea stew to serve over some boxed couscous.

I made some variations to a a recipe I picked up one year at the Epcot Food and Wine Festival for a traditional veggies and couscous. This is a really simple one pot meal with loads of veggies in it!

Ingredients:

1 box (4 cups) chicken stock (I use an all natural kind by Kitchen Basics because it has no preservatives and SIGNIFICANTLY less sodium)

2 tbsps. olive oil

salt

pepper

1 pinch of saffron

1 yellow onion, diced

About 2 cups cabbage, chopped

3 turnips, peeled and diced

4 carrots, peeled and diced

3 tomatoes diced

1 zucchini, diced

2 cans of chick peas

1 more cup chicken broth

couscous

What to do:

Put the first four cups of chicken broth in a pot with four cups of water, some salt, pepper and the saffron. Bring to a boil then add the onions. Let boil for a few minutes. Add the rest of the veggies and chick peas. Let boil until the veggies are tender and the liquid has evaporated. This could take an hour. If the veggies are too firm when the liquid starts evaporating, add more water.

Prepare the couscous following the directions on the box. I use the chicken broth instead of water to give it more flavor. When the couscous and veggies are done, serve the veggies over the couscous.

Well, that's it. Another cooking weekend done. I have survived to cook another day : )

Dominican Republic: Ropa vieja with kidney beans and rice

I'll start by acknowledging that I am fully aware ropa vieja is most widely considered a Cuban dish. The wikipedia list of national dishes, however, describes the national dish of the Dominican Republic as white rice topped with stewed kidney beans and braised beef, served with a side of salad. The dish is known as bandera nacional, or national flag. I have no idea how they came up with that.

Either way, when I started looking for recipes for a braised beef dish unique to the Dominican Republic I kept running across recipes for Dominican ropa vieja. All of those recipes looked quite similar to the so called Cuban ones. I also learned that ropa vieja is quite popular in countries throughout the Caribbean, including the Dominican Republic, Panama and Puerto Rico. Besides, no one claims it as their national dish so I thought I'd give it a go. (Cuba claims a pork and vegetable stew called ajiaco.)

There are apparently varying stories about where the name ropa vieja - which means old clothes in Spanish - came from, but one of the most popular is about a poor old man who could not afford to buy food for his family. So he went to his closet, got some old clothes and cooked them. His love for his family turned them into a beef stew. Impressive.

I once again turned to the man himself, Emeril Lagasse for a ropa vieja recipe. I probably cheated a little because the meat isn't so much braised as it is boiled and simmered for hours. There was no searing or oven involved. And yes it definitely took hours to cook. Three hours for the initial simmering, and then another 30 to 40 minutes after you shredded the beef (which this recipe called for brisket). The result though is a nice pot of tender, shredded beef in a thick sauce flavored with peppers, onions and tomatoes. I'll be curious to try the leftovers and see how it tastes once the flavors melded. I served the ropa vieja with the white beans and kidney beans.

Now, on to Tunisia...

Back at it

After my brief weekend of laziness (if one would call preparing four dishes for a dinner party lazy) I've dipped back into the wine bag of fun and pulled out the next two countries.

The two I pulled were the Dominican Republic and Tunisia, so hopefully this weekend I will get to both of those. Stay tuned ...

Syria: Tabbouleh

I figured a good tabbouleh would be another nice accompaniment for the kababs. This simple salad is basically a combination of chopped, fresh herbs with some tomatoes, bulgur wheat and scallions. Bulgur wheat is made from durum wheat and has a light nutty flavor. I think it has a consistency like oatmeal.

For this one I once again turned to the Barefoot Contessa for guidance. I thought her tabbouleh recipe is kind of heavy on the bulgur wheat, but you could easily fix that by not using so much.

I also used the veggie chopper again for this recipe to chop the herbs. It smelled amazing grating the mint!

Lebanon: Kibbeh

Lebanon's national dish, kibbeh, is pretty similar to the kabab's from Iran. The difference is the kibbeh has bulgur wheat mixed in with the meat.

And what do you know, one of my favorite celebrity chef's Emeril Lagasse actually has a kibbeh recipe. Who would have thought? The recipe is actually for kibbeh with caramelized onions and some sort of pomegranate molasses, but I just stuck with the kibbeh. Remember. Keepin' it simple.

I'm still trying to decide which one I like better - the kabab or the kibbeh. The tumeric in the kabab gave it a really nice and different flavor. The Emeril kibbeh had a variety of other spices, including all spice and cinnamon. The bulgur wheat gives it a firmer texture. Hm...

Well I'm pretty hungry after all this cooking and blogging. Now I just need to decide what to feed myself. I think I've got my meals for the week covered.

And yes, I know the kibbeh also look funny. Can't we all just see past appearances?

Israel: Israeli salad

What drew me to Israel this week was one of the national dishes, an Israeli salad. I was tempted to hold off on Israel for another, less ambitious cooking weekend so I could make the other national dish - falafel. But in the end, for simplicity's sake, I went with the salad.

A traditional Israeli salad is basically cucumbers and tomatoes diced very finely. The dicing is what makes this combo distinct to the country. Apparently the ability to dice the vegetables so finely is the mark of a truly wonderful kibbutz cook.

The vegetables are dressed with lemon juice, olive oil, parlsey and green onions. I used this as a guide to come up with a very, very basic recipe.

Now, since I'm no master kibbutz cook, I relied on my veggie chopper to make this dish as authentic as possible. The veggie chopper was a birthday gift from my sister last year. She fell in love with it at a Williams-Sonoma cooking class on making salsa. The beauty of the veggie chopper is that you have total control over how finely your vegetables get chopped, moreso than with a food processor. It's manually operated with a cord that when you pull, turns the blades and chops the veggies. I love it for dicing onions. For this recipe I also used the veggie chopped to cut the parsley and scallions.

Ingredients:

1 hothouse cucumber

2 tomatoes

About 2 tbsps. fresh lemon juice

About 2 tbsps. olive oil

Salt

Pepper

3 tbsps. chopped flat-leaf parsley

3 tbsps. chopped scallions

What to do:

Dice the cucumbers and tomatoes using preferred method. Add lemon juice and olive oil and toss. Then add diced parsley and scallions. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Iran: Kabab

So the Wiki list of national dishes has two variations of kababs for Iran, chelow and nan-e.

A chelow kabab is a simple meal that basically consists of a meat kebab served with steamed rice. Don't be fooled into limiting your idea of a kabab to hunks of meat and vegetables on a stick. A traditional kebab can also be a log-shaped meat ball of sorts. The mixture used to mold the shape is usually made up of the meat and spices. You can stuff this kabab into a pita for a tasty sandwhich. The nan-e kabab is basically the same kind of thing, but served with flatbread instead of rice.

I decided to go with the meat log variety to go with my side dishes (and the leftover tzatziki from greek night).

I found this kabab recipe on some random Web site called Persian City. It calls for either lamb or ground beef. I went with lamb. The tumeric is where it's at on this one. I also made mind in the over and skipped the tomatoes.

I know they look kind of funny, but are quite tasty. Shove them in a pita with some tzatiki and the Israeli salad and you'll never know the difference.

Middle Eastern madness!

You didn't think I'd settle to close the weekend off with just one country, did you? Nope. And today I thought I'd try my luck dipping into the wine bag of fun for a surprise cooking adventure.

The lucky draw this time out was Iran, and a quick consultation with the Wiki list of national dishes revealed that one of this country's national dishes is the kebab. Easy enough.

I also figured that this would be a good opportunity to pick up some of my slack and whip up a couple of side dishes from other nearby countries.

So I came up with a pretty impressive Middle Eastern menu with the national dishes from four countries: Iran, Israel, Lebanon and Syria.

Recipes to follow with each individual country.

Like my affection for Greek food, I've also always been a big fan of cooking from middle eastern countries. It's light, seems to be healthy and now that I've made it I can say it's surprisingly simple. The key is using good ingredients.

And in case you're wondering about the picture, that's me in Israel. Somewhere hiking in the Negev Desert. I went on a trip with college newspaper editors. We swam in the Dead Sea, rode camels through the desert and even visited a kibbutz. Talk about a fun vacation location, if you can get past the terrorism. Our tour bus drove very quickly past the borders of Lebanon and Syria.

So three weeks into my little project that's 10 countries down, 193 to go...

Greece: Menu for a Grecian kitchen Odyssey

The first time I ever tried to make Greek food I was a college intern working at a newspaper in Jacksonville. It was a disaster. I followed recipes in a cookbook I bought when I was over there (I don't know why because at the time I anticipated a life of lackluster domestic skills).

Either way, the recipe for moussaka didn't say to drain the eggplant, so I didn't, and ended up with a soupy, watery mess. At this time in my life I also didn't understand the concept of Greek yogurt, so tried to make tzatziki with the regular kind. I was also halving the recipe, but forgot about that when I added the garlic. More soupy, smelly mess. Don't even get me started on the Greek potatoes.

But now I'm a little older, a little wiser and a little more savvy in the kitchen. At least savvy enough to look to what I consider the best recipe source on the Internet: FoodNetwork.com.

I love Greek food, and over time have found some awesome recipes there. Here's the menu I used for my Grecian kitchen Odyssey.

Greek salad: This Ina Garten recipe uses all the classic elements of Greek salads, but instead of serving it over lettuce you pour the dressing over chunks of vegetables. It's been a crowd pleaser every time I've made it. Everyone seems to like the crunchiness.

Tzatziki: This is another Ina recipe for the traditional Greek cucumber, dill and garlic yogurt dip.

Moussaka: Emeril gives us this recipe for the traditional Greek lasagna-like dish. It's layers of potatoes, eggplant, meat and of course the signature bechamel sauce. The recipe calls for lamb, but if you have guests who don't go there you can just substitute for more ground beef. I also add nutmeg to the meat mixture and the sauce, which is very traditional.

And the final recipe is actually one I've adapted from that otherwise useless cookbook I picked up somewhere in Greece. Just a nice little side dish. We paired the meal with quite the variety of wines and capped it off with some ouzo. More on beverage pairings later ...

Green beans with tomatoes

Ingredients:

1 yellow onion, chopped

2 tbsps. minced garlic

2 tbsps. olive oil

1 pound of green beans

1 white potato, sliced thin

1 can crushed tomatoes

1 can whole plum tomatoes

What to do:

Start by heating the olive oil in a large saute pan. Then add the onions and garlic and cook until the onions are tender.

Now for the potatoes, I usually fry some up from the moussaka recipe and save them for this side dish. If you're not making the mousakka, add the potatoes to the onion and garlic and let them fry a bit.

Add the green beans, crushed tomatoes and whole tomatoes with their juice and transfer to some sort of soup pot. Bring to a boil, and then let simmer until the green beans reach desired tenderness. This will probably take about 20 minutes, and the tomato sauce should thicken.

Opa! My kitchen Grecian Odyssey

So I guess if life is about balance, the perfect ying to the yang of an elaborate solo evening out is an equally elaborate dinner party at home with some of your closest friends.

I never picked a country from the wine bag of fun this week. For starters, I wasn't home to do it. Life got busy, or at least busy enough for me to handle. I was too tired for menu planning.

By the end of my week some of my friends were floating ideas of getting together Saturday. I thought it would be fun to have them over and cook for them and wanted to make something dinner party friendly (ie: tried, true and delicious).

At some point Saturday morning I realized my sister was on her way for her first time for Greece. I knew there would be no better way to wish her bon voyage than by with some moussaka.

Greece also has special meaning for me. It was the first country I ever visited overseas when I was a 16 year-old-soon to be senior at Sacred Heart Academy in Buffalo. I was lucky enough to be in the group of about a dozen teenage girls and half as many nuns who spent roughly two weeks touring the ancient ruins and gorgeous islands in the Mediterranean.

Thus began a period in my life when I was doing a lot of traveling.

My friend Sarah and I have occasionally mused about whether Greece was really as amazing as we remember it, or if we were just young, naive and impressionable.

I know a lot of people who say they didn't take travel opportunities when they were younger because they wanted to wait until they had more money to enjoy the experience. For me, I am I happy I did. There's nothing like being a teenager leaving the country for the first time marveling at the Parthenon or a college student wandering around the villages of Spain on her own looking for direction.

We did all of the must have sight seeing in Greece - the Parthenon and Plaka, the ruins at Delphi, the theatre in Epidaurus. I ran the original Olympic stadium with one other girl and the tour guide made me a wreath crown from a nearby laurel tree. I'm not sure if I violated the customs rules about bringing agricultural products back to the states, but I did. The dried wreath still hanging in a frame in my old bedroom at home in Buffalo.

One of my favorite stories is about the time they dropped us off in Rhodes and told us we could go wander. My friend Sarah and I got lost, and figured the best way to find our way back to the boat we arrived on would be to just head for the water. We underestimated the fact that Rhodes is an island, and ended up on an extremely long walking tour through the maze of streets and neighborhoods. Lucky for us, Rhodes is a pretty small island.

We tried milkshakes made from goats milk, Greek coffee and ouzo (Yes, the nuns let us drink ouzo ... or maybe they had too much themselves and didn't notice ...)

I remember eating some the best and freshest food of my life in the quaintest little cafes and restaurants with amazing views of ancient ruins or beautiful coastlines. There were many a lunch on our own when Sarah and I figured it was more prudent to save our money for things like souvenirs, and just split and salad of fresh tomatoes and cucumbers and ate it with pita and tzatziki.

So as my sister made her way across the ocean to Athens, I thought I would go Grecian in her honor. And what better way to celebrate a country I have such great memories of, than with my closest friends.

My Grecian cooking Odyssey did get off to a fairly rough start. I cut my time to get everything ready pretty close, and then of course my trip to Publix was hampered by what appears to be the arrival of the snow birds blocking the aisles and stealing my basket (no joke... I had to chase this old guy down to get it back). And apparently the recession has Publix scaling back hours for cashiers. So that took much longer than expected.

By the time I got home I found myself frantically peeling eggplants, slicing potatoes and frying them while simultaneously simmering onions and ground beef for the moussaka. Then there was the battle with the bottle of Greek wine, whose cork just about disintegrated into a fine powder when I tried to remove it from the bottle. My solution was to try to pry it out with a long fondue fork, but ended up accidentally (and roughly) shoving it into the bottle, cork attached, splashing the red wine all over my face and my kitchen. Thank goodness for aprons!

My laptop froze up just as I needed to consult with a recipe, so I had to take the time to restart it. I was still finishing the Greek salad and hadn't even started the tzatziki when my first batch of guests arrived - two children in tow - pulled out the baby bag of fun and their toddler promptly started exploring my living room. I brought in my chairs from the patio for people to sit on, not noticing the renegade palmetto bug that rode in on it. (We did promptly identify and take care of that issue).

But there were moments of peace in all this chaos. Every so often when you're scrambling to prepare a big meal - probably taking on too much - to entertain guests there are moments when all you can do is wait for something to finish. There are those times when you've done just about everything you can and you just have to wait for the meat to brown or the eggplants to fry before you can move on to to make something with it.

And in the end, when everything's done, all you can do is sit down with your friends and a nice glass of wine and enjoy every bite of it.

The joy of solitude, especially when served with a scoop of creme fraiche ice cream

Some of the best meals of my life I've enjoyed sitting across the table from my family or dearest friends. From a homemade pizza or Emeril's banana cream pie to fondue or tapas, I'm a firm believer in the magical power food has to bring people together in one shared experience, made all the memorable by a generous helping of whipped topping and washed down with a tasty vino.

But most days, I eat alone. And while that may seem lame, I confess I actually really enjoy it.

When sharing a meal with friends, it is the people who captivate your attention (or should). The flavors and sensations of every bite can be easily lost in the distraction of a good dining companion and excited conversation.

So many nights I actually relish in the art of eating alone, when I can become fully present with my food, contemplating and savoring every bite in some sort of deep meditation.

Most evenings I perform this ritual in the privacy of my own home, dressed down in my comphies away from the judging stares of people who might wonder how a young woman ends up all by herself in a restaurant.

But tonight I dined alone in public.

I'm not sure exactly what prompted me do to this, except I guess it seemed like a good way to end an exhausting, frantic and all around crappy workweek. No need to go into the details, but we'll just say I got stuck late at the office three nights in a row, each night forfeiting better plans to pray at the altar of my editors.

I was all set to go to happy hour around 6 p.m., feeling cute in my hot pink shirt, skirt and heels and looking forward to a nice endcap to the workweek. But I never made it.

By the time I walked out of the building at 8 p.m., the happy hour specials had long run out and most of my friends were booked or retired for the evening.

I didn't feel like going home just yet, but didn't know what to do with myself. There was one thing I did have a handle on at this point: I was really hungry.

As I made my near weekly wine run at Whole Foods this crazy idea popped into my head: Why not go to Derek's?

For the uninitiated, Derek's is this cozy little gourmet restaurant in the Rosemary Court district of Sarasota. It's the kind of place where chicly painted canvases hang on the wall above wooden furniture covered in the most classic touch of restaurant style, white table clothes. The bottoms of the tables are even covered in soft, squishy foam so when one with particularly long legs goes to cross them during her meal she does not bruise them ...

But I digress.

It's the kind of place where the chef walks around the restaurant smiling at all his patrons and watching while his artwork dissolves in their mouths, covering their palates with his sensuous tango of flavors. Somewhere I read he trained with Emeril.

It's the kind of place I always want to go more often. But it's pricey - the entrees are all upward of $25 - and I usually can't get anyone to spring the cash to go with me.

I don't think the idea of going to Derek's by myself ever popped into my head, and if it did I probably brushed it aside right away to make room for something more practical. I always dreaded the thought of going to restaurants by myself to be pitied by all the happy families and bubbly couples. It always seemed better to save the money for a time I could go with friends and share the experience. And especially after a hard week at work, I'd always figure I was too tired to enjoy it.

But maybe I'm just getting old. Maybe more secure. Maybe I'm starting to realize that the days when I can go out and drop a decent wad of cash to treat myself - just me - to a phenomenal meal could be numbered. A friend of mine pointed out just a few weeks ago when we went out to eat "If we had kids think of how much this would cost us?"

How many people really have the luxury to go out and treat themselves to a three-course gourmet meal and be able to savor every morsel completely uninterrupted and free of the any guilt of not sharing it with spouse and/or children?

Perhaps this all dawned on me the last hour of my workweek, as I sat and pouted about missing happy hour and my co-worker fielded calls from his six-year-old daughter wondering when dad was coming home for dinner.

So when the idea to go to Derek's popped into my head, not only did I let it take hold I truly embraced it. (Besides, I was really good this week. I only went to Starbucks one morning and out for lunch twice.)

I went, I sat all by myself and I savored every morsel of food and every minute of the blissful solitude that came with it. And I laughed to myself - and somewhat pitied - the couple looking quite uncomfortable on some sort of awkward date, as well as the one taking pictures of each other across the table with their cel phones.

But none of that really matters. It was really about me and the food, all three courses.

I started with the soup of the day, a pureed celery root garnished with candied celery root and a blue crab salad. Chef Derek himself served it to me tableside, pouring the creamy broth over the elegant pile of crab meat. I immediately found comfort in the smooth, creamy broth, the savory flavor interrupted every so often by a sweet bite of candied celery or the tender blue crab. Every few bites I tasted something spicy, like dried chile.

I almost died when my main course of lamb shank dressed in cumin vinaigrette and some sort of date sauce arrived. The meat looked like it was just about ready to jump off the bone and into my side dishes of mashed chic peas and a cracked wheat salad. It met this fate as soon as my knife pierced the meat. I felt like I was eating the very best comfort meal anyone could ever find in the Mediterranean. At first my feelings were mixed about the cracked wheat. It had a very distinct texture like oatmeal and tasted, well, kind of wheaty. But as I worked through the rich meat and tangy chick peas I came to appreciate the contrast of the wheat salad, with bits of black olives, dates and onions in it.

By the time I shoved almost every bite on my plate into my mouth I was stuffed, but I had come way to far in this catharsis to leave it unfinished. The dessert menu arrived, and while I really craved the banana custard with ricotta doughnuts, something about the carrot cake called to me. Perhaps it was the idea of savoring one of my favorite childhood sweets, all gourmeted to the max and dolled up with creme fraiche ice cream that appealed to me.

I left the restaurant feeling full of good food and contentment.

Some people measure independence by one's ability to go through life not relying on other people for their own happiness. Maybe this was some weird step I needed to take, but never did in my years living by myself. To go out on my own and enjoy one of my favorite pleasures without having anyone to go with.

P.S. - This was actually the second time this week I ventured out to dine on my own, but my trip to Luna in Venice earlier this week didn't seem quite as ground-breaking. I just wanted lasagna. Maybe I'm on to something ...

Lambapalooza

So it's been brought to my attention that part of the solution to my lamb angst may have been in the check out aisle at Publix.

This month's Saveur had extensive coverage of cooking with Lamb, including recipes from all over the world and tips on how to de-bone it.

If you are interested, check out this super sweet hyperlink I just figured how to add to my blog.

And by the way, I'm on round two of the lamb stew. The re-up is always tastier than the first time around. And man this stew really has a kick to it. It didn't SEEM like that much cayenne pepper...

Mali: Timbuktu lamb stew with couscous

I love eating lamb, but until I started making this stew I forgot what a pain in the ass it can be to cook with. Most of the better cuts I've come across in the grocery stores involve large hunks of bone that make it difficult to salvage all of the meat from.

Either way, the effort is well worth it. I've done several other slow-cook stews that involve lamb, and I think it could just be the perfect way to cook it. The stewing process makes the sweet meat deliciously soft and tender.

This recipe is marked by just about every spice in the spice aisle. (That's a slight exaggeration, but you seriously use eight, not including the salt or garlic). It creates an amazing flavor combination that dances across your palate leaving hints of sweet, tangy and finally the hot from the cayenne pepper.

Anyway, for the most part I followed this recipe from recipehound.com, with some alterations with ingredients and techniques.

One of the most noticeable differences is that I used carrots in mine (in my never ending effort to use all of the food in my refrigerator). I also thought it could use some color. I was also fairly arbitrary about the spice adding.

Ingredients:

1/2 cup olive oil

About 2 pounds of lamb, cut into 2 inch chunks

salt

pepper

3 garlic cloves, minced

5 carrots, peeled and cut into large chunks about the size of the meat

1 tbsp. cumin

1 tsp. fennel seeds

1/2 tbsp. ground cardamon

2 tbsps. ground ginger

more pepper

1 tbsp. cayenne pepper

1 tsp. ground nutmeg

1 can whole tomatoes

water

2 yellow onions

1 tsp. cinnamon

1 1/2 cup dates pureed

chopped parsley

couscous

What to do:

Season the lamb with salt and pepper (I usually do this before I cut it into the cube pieces). Heat the oil in a large soup pot or dutch oven. When the oil is hot, add the garlic and the meat and cook until browned. Add the carrots and cook a few more minutes. Next add the following spices: cumin, fennel seeds, cardamon, ginger, black pepper, cayenne pepper and nutmeg. Mix well and cook a few minutes.

Then add the can of tomatoes and their juices. Add water to cover all of the meat and bring pot to a boil. Then reduce to a simmer and let cook for an hour.

When the hour is up, add the onions, date puree and cinnamon. Again, bring this to a boil then reduce to a simmer for another 30 to 40 minutes. You want to cook it until the juice thickens.

You can eat this dish over couscous, or just as is (which is actually what I did with a side of potatoes au gratin). Sprinkle with the parsley before serving.

Surprise detour ... through Comoros!

Well I decided to live really wild this week and spontaneously pull a country for a quiet Friday evening at home doing some cooking. The lucky draw was Comoros, a country in the Indian Ocean off the coast of Africa.

I could not immediately locate a national dish for this country, so I started doing some Internet research to come up with a recipe.

Comoros must be a pretty nice island locale because over the years it was invaded by various groups from Africa, Indonesia, Madagascar and the Persian Gulf region. France and Portugal also paid their own friendly visits.

Of course all of these people were kind enough to bring ingredients from their native countries and introduced them to the Comorosians. This inspired an eclectic cuisine that revolves heavily around rice and meat cooked with various spices, like cloves and saffron, vanilla and cardamon.

I found a decent recipe for a Comorosian chicken curry. I'd post the link, but the web site kept freezing my computer every time I visited it. Besides, I altered the recipe anyway to use up some of the building arsenal of ingredients in my refrigerator.

Without further ado, my version of a Comorosian chicken curry.

Ingredients:

2 boneless skinless chicken breasts (More if you are cooking for more people, obviously. I still have a ton of food frozen from last week so I need to start scaling back my portion sizes.)

Canola oil

1 yellow onion, sliced thin

4 cloves of garlic, chopped

3 serrano peppers, chopped

2 inch piece of fresh ginger, grated

5 tomatoes peeled, diced (You can use fresh, or canned tomatoes - whole or already diced. I used whole, canned plum tomatoes and diced them.)

6 whole cloves

About 2 tbsps. ground cardamon

About 1 cup of vanilla greek yogurt (let sit to room temperature)

1 tbsp. flour

About 1 tbsp. ground cumin

A pinch of saffron

Arborio rice

What I did:

Start by heating about 2 tbsps. of canola oil in a frying pan. Clean the chicken and when the pan is hot throw it in, searing the two pieces. Let the chicken sit for a few minutes on each side so you get a nice brown barrier that will lock in the juices. When done searing, pop the chicken in the over (pre-heated to 350 degrees) to let it finish cooking for (about 25 minutes).

Add the onions, garlic, peppers and ginger to the pan and let it all cook until the onions are soft. Then add the cloves and cardamon and let cook for a few minutes.

When the chicken is done, add it back to the curry and add the tomatoes. Reduce to low heat.

Meanwhile, mix the yogurt with the cumin, saffron and flour. Take a few tbsps. of the curry sauce and add it to the yogurt slowly, mixing briskly. This is supposed to gradually heat the yogurt so it does not curdle. Remove the chicken from the pan, and stir in thre yogurt/curry mix and stir quickly to prevent curdling. Cover and let simmer for one hour.

Meanwhile, cook the rice so it will be ready to serve the chicken over.

I really enjoyed this dish. The seared chicken was tender and juicy and the curry sauce is a nice balance of the full flavors of the spices and the kick of the serrano peppers. The ginger also helps cool the palate from the peppers.

Next up ... Mali

So the next draw from the wine bag of fun and adventure ... Mali. I'm just planning on one country this week - for now - since the weekend is already shaping up to be pretty busy. But I have big plans to pick up my slack next weekend and do my first multi-country feast. Maybe I should have called the blog Cooking Around the World in 80 Weeks?

Mali does not appear to have a national dish that I could easily find, but it does have the legendary city of Timbuktu. I learned this when I found a decent-looking recipe called Couscous De Timbuktu, a stew made with lamb, dates and spices served over couscous. Sounded pretty good to me so I'll be making it this weekend.

In other news in my world of food, the Travel Channel's Man Versus Food filmed an episode in Sarasota that will air tomorrow (Wednesday). The word on the street is that host Adam Richman visited the Salty Dog Cafe, Munchies 420 and Yoder's Amish Restaurant, where one can find a variety of different yummy pie products.

The show will be on at 10 p.m.

Myanmar: Mohinga, Part II

Well for starters, looks like I was right in the first place about Myanmar being Myanmar. It's been brought to my attention that it was Burma up until just last year when they changed their name back to the original Myanmar (Huh?). Right. Apparently there is still some confusion even in the mainstream media about what to call the place. Anyone who is really interested can read up on it. I was more concerned about making my mohinga to pay too much attention.

Today I realized that many of the dishes I may make are going to seem iffy at first, and some may not really be appealing at all. My goal in all of this will be to elevate the traditional recipes into something yummy and edible.

In the course of making the mohinga I feared this could be one of those challenges.

I had trouble finding many recipes for the dish, but Wikipedia did have a list of traditional ingredients that included chickpea flour, garlic, onions, lemongrass, banana tree stems (huh?), ginger, fish paste, fish sauce and catfish. This is all cooked in a rice broth and served with vermicelli and garnished with various things like lime juice, more fish sauce, spring onions and crushed chile peppers. I did use most of these, with the exception of the fish paste and banana tree stems.

As I indicated in an earlier post, I was a little wary of the catfish. I had never tried it, but it strikes me as one of those dirty kind of bottom feeder fish with little flavor. My parents feed them in the murky pond behind their house, and they don't look like anything I'd ever want on my dinner table. Sorry Emily. One we call "lips" even has some sort of weird, red ball on its mouth that my sister suspects might be a tumor.

But I digress...

I learned a few things making the mohinga. 1) Catfish is in fact tasteless, in my opinion, but a meaty, hearty fish 2) Fish sauce smells absolutely terrible and 3) Crushed dried chickpeas smell equally as awful.

All this had me a little worried what the heck I was going to end up with. Despite the above, this soup came out surprisingly tasty. The broth has a bit of a tang to it, but I added cayenne pepper to the recipe so that gave it a little balanced kick.

Without any further ado ... My mohinga.

Ingredients:

About 1 cup of chickpea flour (you can make this my grinding dried chickpeas in a food processor)

4 tbsps. coriander

3 tbsps. cayenne pepper

salt

pepper

1 lb. catfish

1 packet of vermicelli noodles

4 yellow onions

4 cloves of garlic

2 tbsps. lemongrass (I used a paste I found with the fresh herbs)

2 tbsps. grated ginger

3 tbsps. fish sauce

2 limes

1 cup of chopped green onions

1 cup crushed, dried chiles

How I did it:

I start by bringing a pot of water to a boil and cooking the rice noodles. The instructions on the bag actually say to let them soak in warm water for 20 minutes, but I find it works just as well to boil them a few minutes until they are somewhat tender. As I drain the noodles, I reserve the water to use for the soup later. I figured this counted as the rice broth.

I wanted to season the catfish a bit before cooking in an effort to give it some semblance of flavor - based on my assumption it has none - so I make a rub with about half of the chickpea flour, half of the coriander, half of the cayenne and some salt and pepper. I heat a few tablespoons of canola oil in a soup pot while I rub the catfish fillets. When the oil is heated I drop the fish in and cook it. When the fish is done, I remove it and set aside for later.

Then I scrape the seasoning left in the pot off the bottom and add 1 grated onion, the garlic, the lemon grass the ginger and about half of the fish sauce. I let this cook for a few minutes. Then I add the rice broth back in. You may want to add some additional water depending how much you have, the rest of the chickpea flour, coriander and cayenne and bring to a boil. When it is boiling, I add the catfish (cut in chunks) and the rest of the onions (also cut in chunks) and let simmer. The broth thickens pretty quickly, but that's ok. It should be kind of thickish when served.

I toss the vermicelli noodles in the rest of the fish sauce and the juice of two limes. Serve the soup over the noodles and garnish with the onions, chiles and more coridaner (if you feel like it).

I enjoy with a nice cold glass of Santa Alicia Chardonnay!

Myanmar: Setting things straight, and on to mohinga

First things first, a little Internet research has indicated that the Union of Myanmar included on the Wiki list of nations is actually modern-day Burma. Just so there is no confusion for anyone country tracking.

Second, I found a few recipes for the national dish mohinga. It is a fish soup made with catfish, ginger, lemongrass and other spices. It sounds similar to what the Vietnamese call Pho.

I started out with a grocery list of ingredients that included chickpea flour, crushed toasted rice, 4 garlic gloves, 4 onions, 1 tsp. lemongrass, a banana tree stem, 1 inch ginger, fish paste, fish sauce, catfish, 4 tbsp. rice flour rice broth, rice vermicelli, lime, crisp fried onions, coriander, spring onions and dried chili.

Issues with the grocery list: no chickpea flour, crushed toasted rice, banana tree stem, fish sauce. or rice broth.

Going into the grocery shopping, I wasn't even confident I'd be able to find lemongrass or catfish. I've never cooked with either one before. And to be honest, I don't think I've ever ate catfish and was skeptical they would sell this somewhat inferior fish at my local Publix.

It's important to note at this point that I live in a master planned community. My Publix sells fine cheese, duck, quail and creme brulee ice cream. One of my friends once insisted that all Publix's sell fishing bait and didn't believe me when I said I had never seen it there, despite having scoured like every inch of the store. Big surprise, we could not find the large buckets of bait they sell at Publix stores in Port Charlotte, and left with some frozen fillets. Another big surprise, we didn't catch anything.

So yeah, I was iffy about whether the Lakewood Ranch Publix would have catfish sitting side by side with swordfish.

I was indeed surprised that they did, but even more surprised that they had lemongrass in a little tube in the fresh herb section. Now, on to all of the other stuff in the list of ingredients.

In the future, I need to be a little bit more on top of it when it comes to pre-meal grocery shopping (one of my friends pointed out that all Publix's have the plantains required in my Panama dish ... I pointed out this is true, except when I need them). With a little effort and visits to specialty stores, I could probably find most things.

But the point of all of this is to have fun, and I guess I'm somewhat resigned to the fact that things like chickpea flour (also known as gram flour) may not be common mainstays in American supermarkets. So I will figure out how to do without them, or improvise.

In the case of the chickpea flour, we're going with improvise.

I've been meaning to buy a food processor for quite sometime, but like many other things in my life have not been moved by necessity to do so. But as I wandered the aisles of my fairly small Publix this evening wondering where else I could find ground chick peas I thought "Seriously. What do you really think chick pea flour is, besides ground chick peas?" So for $24 I threw a food processor and bag of dried chick peas into the basket.

I'm cutting my loss on the fish paste and banana stems (Seriously? Where the heck would I find those?). And how much fish flavor do we really need? Since I'm all up on the new food processor think I'll make my own crushed, toasted rice. Jury is still out on the rice broth.

Ode to my favorite wine, ever ...

... or at least for now.

If you haven't familiarized yourself with Chilean wines stop whatever you are doing immediately, call the nearest wine store you think will be open and steer yourself in that direction. I don't think it's even fair to call Chile an "up and coming" wine region anymore. For those of us that really enjoy our vino, it's here!

Chile is getting a lot of mainstream attention for its cabernet sauvignons and even sauvignon blancs. While these are both great wines coming out of the country, I challenge the real aficionados to get a little more adventurous. Pick up a carmenere.

Carmenere is a bold, full-bodied wine that is usually spicy, and sometimes smoky. These wines are tougher to come by. For example, for such a great wine, the local Total Wine only has about a half dozen of them.

The problem with carmenere - or at least selling it - is that the flavors in the wine are so bold only really seasoned palettes can appreciate it. Maybe in a few years though these Chilean wines will gain the same popularity of some Spanish wines on liquor store shelves.

In the meantime, look for my favorite label of the moment Santa Alicia. I've had a number of different wines - chardonnay, shiraz, malbec ... - from this Chilean winery and they've all been fantastic. Get an $8 bottle of carmenere and it will hold it's own at any tasting against $20 California bottle.

If you are in Sarasota, you're in luck. Whole Foods has had an ample supply of Santa Alicia carmeneres, malbecs and chardonnays for $8. If you buy six bottles, you get 10 percent off, and if you like bold and flavorful wines you'll drink that no problem.

The pleasure of a one pot meal, especially when recovering from too much fun lately

It's been a long week. Or rather, it's been a long three or four of them.

Let me start by saying that I'm the kind of girl who likes a lot of down time. I like to be able to squirrel away every few weekends all by myself with a few bottles of wine and new recipes. Just me, all by myself, doing whatever it is I feel like at any given moment in my little apartment with all of my things close by me. Too much fun, too much excitement will drive a girl like me to temporary seclusion. Call it lame. Call me old, or a loser. That's just me.

I've been running toward this hermit status for so long I don't even know how long it's been.

All I know is it really started when my parents decided to fly down to help me replace the carpet in my apartment.

My family has been bugging me since the day I moved in more than six years ago to get my apartment's management to replace the carpet. I always figured I was lucky they gave me a place to live, and never thought I'd stay long enough to make it work the effort. And, to me, the carpet never seemed so bad in the first place. But my family always figured I was paying enough in rent each month to warrant a pet free, stain free, fluffy new carpet.

The one defense I always used to support my laziness was that the whole carpet installation was just too much work for me to deal with, me a successful, working journalist with far more important things to worry about. At some point this past year my mom decided she was sick of this BS and volunteered to come down with my dad and do it for me. (You may call me spoiled. I call this the millennial generation. Read up on it.)

So about three weeks ago they descended on Sarasota, and more specifically my sacred little refuge. Before I knew it, they were in my apartment turning my nice, settled life of six years upside down, packing and stacking up all of the books, knick knacks and photos that hadn't been moved in years and piling them up in the kitchen. Before long, there was nothing left in my living room but the carpet stained by years of accidentally spilled red wine and coffee. (Before this whole ordeal began, my friend Elaine and I talked about kissing the old carpet good bye with a baptism by red wine. But then we realized the wine would be put to better use if we just drank it).

All of my belongings hovered in towers on the counters in my kitchen, my furniture lined up next to bed, when the carpet people showed up at 8:30 a.m. I stood watching them tear up my living room in some sort of trance as my mother shooed me out the door to the office. It's a rare event I get my butt to work before 10 a.m., and I think my editor found it amusing the new carpet installation was traumatizing enough to propel me so early into the office.

It really wasn't such a big ordeal. In fact, I got through it doing next to nothing. It was the whole metaphorical process of picking my whole life up, moving it around and leaving it unsettled and disorganized - if only for an evening - that I found so traumatizing. To me, a new carpet also felt like a commitment. It felt like I was pledging to stay in this very place a good chunk longer to make it worth the while. This was also all happening the week before school started, so I was stressed and busy at work trying to file a bunch of stories.

I walked into my apartment at the end of that day, already tired from my back to school preparations and terrified of what new projects my parents might have found to take on that morning. I immediately smelled the new carpet odor, and as I took the few steps down the hall to see my new carpet found myself smirking.

"So..." my mom said beaming from my living room as she put all of my personal belongings back in all the wrong places. "What do you think?"

She was so excited that for a brief moment I thought about just lying. Pretending like it was the greatest thing since manchego cheese or a bottle of Santa Alicia. But at that point I was already too tired, too overwhelmed and too drained. I just found the whole situation amusing.

"It looks ... well ... the same as the last one," I said laughing. "I guess it is cleaner."

I started moving methodologically through the apartment putting everything back in its proper place. For a moment I thought "Maybe this is the time I should just mix it all up. Leave it somewhere new. Aw hell. I'll just get to it later." We were up and doing random "projects" around the house all night. We finally finished to break for dinner at about 10 p.m.

Thus began all the fun, all the excitement, all the stress and lack of routine that has left me in the drained state I now inhabit.

Before they left the sunshine state, my parents took me to Disney, where we wandered around an amusement park in the August heat, ate with Remy (of Ratatouille fame) and at Wolfgang Puck's and Emeril's. They left me one Sunday, and I woke up the next day for the first day of class at a brand new high school at 7 a.m., when I had my Starbucks confiscated. Then ensued all of the 28th birthday celebrations, all of the Bobby Flay, chicken wing festivals, workouts with my brother and blog project shenanigans. Not to mention all the thinking and reflection that comes with every birthday.

I was drained when it all started and I was drained when I came back to Sarasota this week. It was all I could do to make it for two more birthday celebrations : ) After my friend Dan took me for a birthday drink (or three) at some point this week I knew I had it. I was in bed that night by 9:30. Somehow I made it to the weekend, muddling through all the tired and all the cranky that follows all of this over stimulation.

So one might believe it was good karma that after all these weeks of stress, fun and excitement, that I pulled a country with a national dish that amounts to not much more than a comforting and hearty chicken soup. What better way to kick back, get back in touch with yourself and relax your soul than chicken boiled and simmered in a pot with a bunch of yummy veggies?

I will admit that even as I write this I still don't feel like I've really taken a break, or as Jimmy Buffett once sang "a weekend off to try and recall the whole year." But an evening home in my comphies with a delicious one pot dish is a little closer than where I've been lately. I'm on to some more carmenere and carrot cake.

PS - Hope this was sufficient Emily! I am so fortunate to have friends who always point me in the right direction : )