Low Carb Cuisine

My Food Bank Challenge

2015-04-12T13:34:00.000-04:00

I read with interest Gwyneth Paltrow's acceptance of the Food Bank Challenge. She posted the picture of the groceries she purchased for $29. which are supposed to last for one week. The idea is that people on food stamps, now called SNAP, only receive $29 per week for groceries, and Paltrow intends to attract attention to their plight by taking the challenge herself. I have no comment on the politics of this, beyond everybody needs to eat.

As far as I can see, the real challenge here is making meals out of the groceries she brought home. I always keep limes around, but buying seven limes at one time seems a bit excessive to me. However, in Florida, limes can be fairly cheap, sometimes only 5 for $1. so no worries. The only real protein in her basket is the eggs. I know, I know, beans and rice are a perfect protein combination. However, if you live on a diet of beans and rice and are not a vegetarian by choice, you will find yourself craving meat within the week. Try it. I don't know where you can find corn on the cob in April. I'm sure it grows somewhere, but isn't in season here, and I doubt corn on the cob is in the grocery stores here at all right now.

In Florida the average amount of SNAP benefit is $34.50 per person per week. Not the $29 per week as it apparently is in New York. Or, maybe that is the amount New York is threatening to lower SNAP to, not sure, and don't really care for this particular experiment.

Here is the picture of Gwyneth Paltrow's grocery basket for $29.

And here is the list, as close as I can figure:

black beans - dry - looks like a 12 oz or 16 oz bag

whole grain brown rice - can't really tell the size of the bag

a dozen white eggs

romaine lettuce

one avocado

one onion

one ear of corn

one tomato

one jalapeno

kale

bag of green peas - frozen I think

corn tortillas - looks like a package of 18

a bunch of green onions

seven limes

one sweet potato

My challenge is to buy that list of food as inexpensively as possible. I am pretty sure it won't come anywhere near $29. Then I'm going to spend whatever I have left over out of the $29 on more food that can actually be turned into meals. And I'm going to see if I can feed my husband and me for a week on the $29. I'll let you know how it goes.

Discover Cedar Key.

2013-04-23T08:44:00.001-04:00

Cedar Key is one of those off the beaten path, old Florida small towns that many Florida transplants yearn to see. It has a welcoming look and feel, different from any other town in Florida. No tall buildings here, or for that matter no chain hotels. Accommodations are down home Ma and Pa motels or home away from home Bed & Breakfasts. Good fishing, good restaurants, and exquisite scenery.

Cdear Key - photo by Ruth Tick

According to the Chamber of Commerce website:

"Cedar Key is one of the oldest ports in the state, and when Florida's first railroad connected it to the east coast, it became a major supplier of seafood and timber products to the northeast. Today it has become a haven for artists and writers who find the unspoiled environment inspirational to their work. Many people visit each year to walk the historic streets browse the shops and galleries, explore the back bayous and enjoy the world-famous restaurants featuring seafood fresh from local waters."

Cedar Key "Honeymoon Retreat" photo by Ruth Tick

I discovered Cedar Key years ago while living in Daytona Beach. I wanted to get away to an island atmosphere, but didn't have the time to go all the way down to the keys in south Florida. It is nearly a straight shot west from Daytona Beach, with the added bonus of there being no interstate to drive. The central Florida scenery is lovely. Not just old pines and palmettos, but also hardwood hammocks and ranch land. And once you get there, you will likely agree - west coast Florida is truly a different world from the east.

Historic Church in Cedar Key - photo by Ruth Tick

Old style Florida architecture provides a refreshing look back into Florida's history. It makes it easy to imagine the simpler times when Cedar Key residents gathered every Sunday there.

Cedar Key is about 50 miles southwest of Gainesville, Florida; 135 miles north of Tampa; and 130 miles southwest of Jacksonville, Florida. From Gainesville, take State Route #24 southwest for approximately 50 miles. You will cross-over State Highway 27/41 in Archer, Alternate Route 27 in Bronson, and US 19/98 in Otter Creek. Continue until you encounter a stop sign in the City of Cedar Key. Travel time from Gainesville to Cedar Key is about one hour. For more detailed travel information, visit the Cedar Key Chamber of Commerce site.

Historic St. Augustine

2012-05-20T14:53:00.001-04:00

St. Augustine has been a favorite destination for my whole life. I grew up in Jacksonville. At least once a year we would travel to St. Augustine on a school field trip. I'd also go there frequently with my family. Jacksonville people love St. Augustine. I remember going to Easter dinner at the old Ponce de Leon hotel as a little girl. Mom says, she and dad, purposefully took us kids there in an attempt at civilizing us. There were finger bowls – tuxedoed waiters – and elegant service – oh my! Years later the Ponce de Leon hotel was transformed into a girls college, and then later on into a co-ed liberal arts college. Back then Flagler college did not have the prestigious reputation it does now. As I remember it, it was not considered a very good school, more like a respectable enough school for kids who flunked out somewhere else. I attended Flagler College – and we rocked that small town. My grades were ok, although, I don't remember doing much studying. Fast forward a few decades. In 2007, Dusty and I married on the bridge over the Koi pond in the courtyard of the Lightner Museum. We were even whisked away after the ceremony in a white carriage drawn by a white horse. Quite fairytale.

The history of St. Augustine is in all the brochures, so I'll be brief. It was first discovered by Spanish Conquistador, Ponce de Leon in 1513. He was actually searching for the Fountain of Youth, and the Indians convinced him that he had found it. The site of the Fountain of Youth is a well known tourist attraction. Castillo de San Marcos is the name of the old fort that was first built in the 16th century. It is positioned strategically within surveillance sight of the harbor and the sea beyond. The Alligator Farm is on Anastasia Island, just across the Bridge of Lions. Both of these are also historic. The Alligator Farm celebrated its 100th anniversary a few years ago; and the lions for the Bridge of Lions were donated by a prominent dentist back in the 1930's. So, now you can get an idea why the word “historic” so often precedes St. Augustine. And there's more, there's a lot more.

But, for many, myself included, the history doesn't fully account for the town's appeal. The look of the town, which is, yes, decidedly old worldy is a huge factor, but along with the appearance is the atmosphere. People are friendly and helpful, that's always nice. Floridians have come to expect friendliness, but its not that way everywhere, so I always like to notice when people are especially nice. And they are. Its a good walking town, and I like that too. If you stay in the historic section you can see a lot of this lovely town on foot, and may never need to drive anywhere. The way the town is laid out is unusual for American towns and very typical of Spanish towns. The plaza in the center of town is surrounded by shop filled streets, radiating in every direction. And, yes, the shopping is good. There are all kinds of boutiques, art galleries, import shops, and restaurants. And the street performers. I love a place with street musicians and artists. The street artists and musicians were banished by a mean city council for several long years, and now they're back. They make the atmosphere so fun and festive. Almost exotic.

There is a lot to see and enjoy. Here is a list of my favorites.

Restaurant – Spy; and Columbia Restaurant
B&B – Carriage Way
Gallery – Pasta Gallery
Museum – The Lightner
Architecture – Flagler College
Must See Every Time – The Courtyard at the Lightner - stand on the bridge and feed the giant koi.

An American Tourist in Havana

2012-04-29T17:34:00.000-04:00

I was standing at the Cuban Customs counter hoping the officer would let me pass. Silently I recited my Spanish mantra, waiting, wondering if an American tourist was welcome. Curiosity thirsts for relief.
I grew up in Florida and remember the Cuban Missile Crisis. At school, we had backpacks stocked with emergency rations. The official evacuation plan was for each class to follow our teacher single file to the nearby train track. There, although there was no platform, we were to board the train, travel forty miles to St. Augustine, and then take refuge in the Old Fort. The Old Fort, Castillo De San Marcos, built in the 1500’s by Spanish conquistadors, was the school’s official Civil Defense Plan in case of nuclear attack. The grownups incessantly discussed the threat. At school, we learned Spanish from Senora Diaz, who had fled Cuba the day Batista fell. In her classroom, Spanish was the only language. She taught by telling fairy tales and elaborate stories of life in Cuba, vigorously miming the action as she spoke. By age eleven, my mastery of Spanish was near fluent and my fascination with Cuba was complete.

Until recently the idea of traveling to Cuba remained a forgotten childhood fantasy. Until I met my husband, an Englishman, I had never known anyone who had visited Cuba. He was vaguely aware that Americans were prohibited to travel there. He described the old world architecture in Havana, saying it felt like time travel, the vintage cars on the roads. Besides his description and a British guidebook, I didn’t have a vision of Cuba. I dreamed of going there before it opened to Americans, before there were fast food franchises, before American influence took over. We researched our Cuban expedition, finding zero flights from the US to Cuba; plenty from Europe, Canada and Mexico. We found websites hosted by independent tour operators containing practical information for planning a trip to Cuba, hotel rates and ratings, and technical advice for Americans. After corresponding with Madison, a tour operator, we chose dates and a hotel, the Conde Villanueva, in Old Havana. The scant reviews and few photos provided a glimpse, but not a clear picture.

Atrium at the Conde Villanueve
The legalities of Americans traveling to Cuba are convoluted. We are not forbidden to go, but we are forbidden to spend money there. We may go, but only for limited purposes, humanitarianism among them. We paid for our flight and hotel in advance, sending a cashier’s check to a P.O. box in Texas paid to the tour operator. My worries about sending money to an unknown person in another state vanished when we promptly received a confirmation. To ensure that our trip was humanitarian we bought children’s art supplies for Red Cross donation.

Romeo & Juliet Balcony - Old Havana
On one website we found a page devoted to the legalities of Americans traveling to Cuba. Listed there were the names and numbers of attorneys offering their services to Americans experiencing border trouble after visiting Cuba. I printed the list and kept it on me. On the day of our long awaited flight, we dutifully arrived at the Cancun Airport three hours ahead of scheduled flight time. Madison had given us specific instructions. We checked in with Raul, showed him our papers and passports. He checked us in for our Cuba bound flight. Undaunted by Cubana Airlines two hour flight delay, we waited. All my life, I had heard that Americans may not travel to Cuba. In the Cuban Customs line, I silently practiced the words in Spanish, please do not stamp my passport. In many countries people traveling together approach the customs counter together, entering Cuba you must approach alone. As each person clears, the customs officer presses a hidden button unlocking the door.
Behind the customs counter sat a stern young woman wearing a starched blue and white uniform. I handed over my passport, she inspected it carefully, carefully comparing the photo to my face. In unaccented English, she asked where I was going. Havana, The Conde Villanueva, I said. She asked the length of my trip. Four days, please do not stamp my passport, I said. She asked the purpose of my trip. I am a tourist, I said. With a decisive clunk, the serious young officer with the perfect English, stamped a temporary travel visa, and inserted it inside my passport. Handing my papers back to me, she said, enjoy Cuba, and flashed a radiant smile. The magic click of the unlocking door signaled my permission to pass. My husband waited on the other side.

Across the Plaza
We collected our luggage, located our driver, and boarded the bus to the hotel. For forty-five minutes the bus wound through congested streets, finally stopping at an open plaza. The driver hailed a man walking by, asking how to find the Conde Villanueva. The man offered to show the way. Our new guide, the driver, my husband and I, marched for a quarter mile or more through the narrow streets of Havana in search of our hotel. When we arrived at the Conde Villanueve, I thought we had made a huge mistake.
The Conde Villanueva at night is a forbidding faceless building with latched shutters, and huge bolted doors. Our driver pounded on the heavy wooden door. A man in uniform responded, allowing us entry only after we proved our identities. After check-in the doorman led us through the dimly lit lobby, and up the wide dark stairway to our suite. At the sight of the room, I dropped my bags, and sank into the soft armchair. The room seemed especially large, because of the soaring ceilings and magnificent doors. It had all of the necessary personal comforts and desired luxuries, queen size bed, en suite bath, TV, and telephone. Thankfully, the air conditioner provided heavenly relief from the humid night. Having traveled all day and hungry, I called the front desk to find out whether the restaurant was still open. The desk clerk said it was not. Disappointed, we resigned ourselves to going without until morning. Moments later the clerk called to say that there was a restaurant opening for the evening and he had reserved us a table. Nearly 11:00 p.m. struck me as an odd hour for a restaurant to open; hunger prevailed, and off we went.

Che Guevara
Greeting us in the lobby, the doorman introduced himself as Henry. Henry said he would show us to the restaurant, then walk us back. With a chuckle he added, that he would be our bodyguard. Off once again through the dark narrow streets of Havana, this time in search of food. Alone on the streets, most of the buildings closed up tight like our hotel. The massive contiguous buildings, stand adjacent to the sidewalk, providing welcome shade by day and deep shadows by night. We must have walked a mile before Henry stopped at one of the doorways. Henry knocked for entry, an ancient woman welcomed us. We ascended the staircase immediately ahead, which opened to a loft. We found a half dozen tables set formally with linens, and silver; a polished wooden bar, fully stocked with every kind of liquor, ran an entire wall. The waiter seated us immediately, presenting thick menus offering a wide selection of Cuban specialties. We fully enjoyed this long awaited meal, and soon realized that we were the only patrons there. Henry returned during our meal, patiently sipping cappuccino, while we finished.

Museum of the Revolution
Exhausted and satisfied we plodded back through the silent streets. After turning yet another corner, the three of us instantly alerted at the specter in our path. A group of men stood, nearly shoulder to shoulder, mutely facing us; their menacing line spanning the narrow street. There was no way to pass, but to slip between them. Our eyes straight forward, me holding my breath. We passed, without incident.
The next morning, in full daylight, we saw the hotel for the first time. It transformed overnight, from ominous to enchanting. The imposing two story building has nine suites, wide covered walkways downstairs, wide terraces above. The terraces overlook and encircle an atrium and courtyard. The atrium is lush with palms, banana trees, and jungle flowers, growing so close, it is impossible to see the building on the other side. We strolled downstairs to breakfast on the atrium patio. A flamboyantly plumed resident peacock emerged from the atrium foliage, then lurked near the tables snatching morsels from plates of the unwary.

Peacock at the Conde Villanueve We joined the pedestrian parade outside the hotel doors and set out to explore Old Havana. A few blocks from the hotel we discovered the Plaza de Armas, a wide open area surrounded by tall buildings, paved with ancient flagstone. There we hired a man with a horse and trap offering guided city tours. Once aboard, bumping through the streets, the driver lectured about history and landmarks. We rode by El Floridita, made famous by Ernest Hemingway. We saw Havana’s unlikely Chinatown; many statues of heroes and more of saints; the new rum factory; the old cigar factory; and the modest building where Fidel has his office. Murals and graffiti declare Cuba’s unending adulation of Castro, and Che. Multi-story apartment buildings, once family mansions, tower above the busy road. Recently renovated buildings stand in stark contrast to dilapidated structures. The ruins, neglected relics of Cuba‘s special period, are citadels of ordered poverty. Our trap shared the street with mid-century Chevys and Fords; tiny European autos; bicyclists; and pedestrians.

Bicycle Taxi
We got out of the trap to explore The Museum of the Revolution which is housed in the palace of former dictator, Fulgencio Batista. The excessively ornate architecture contrasts sharply with displays of Fidel’s drab ideology. Batista, a ruler of the elite, and Castro, a ruler of the people, could not be more disparate. Despite the United States’ disapproval, and disagreement with Castro’s dictatorship, few deny that Fidel brought relative prosperity to Cuba’s people. In the palace rooms, beneath the gilded ceilings, modest showcases display revolutionary artifacts tracing the fall of Batista and the rise of Castro. By the grand stairway, bullet holes in the plaster commemorate Castro’s first coup attempt. When Castro seized power, Batista fled, and lived out his years in Florida. The museum’s glass showcases display photos of Fidel dressed in characteristic military garb alongside photos of Che Guevara wearing his signature beret with the single star.

View from the Palace
Castro allied Cuba with the Soviets, who subsidized Cuba’s economy, supplying technology and goods. To the Soviets, Cuba was a strategic military location. To the US, Cuba’s allegiance with a sworn enemy was an outrage. The Soviet Union and the United States were entrenched in the Cold War and the ever escalating race to destruction. Myth and fact are tightly tangled -- claims of covert CIA actions against Cuba are alternately farfetched and plausible. Placards state that the CIA attempted to assassinate Castro; and hired U.S. gangsters to assassinate Castro; and poisoned Cuba’s crops; and murdered Cuba’s pigs; and prevented Cuba’s athletes from playing in Puerto Rico’s Olympics. Placards also state that the U.S. attempted to persuade other countries to unite in a unified trade embargo against Cuba. My satisfaction quenched my curiosity. Seen with my own eyes, a neighbor nation, less sinister than rumored, more alien than imagined. Cuba is in no danger of being overcome by American culture; a culture so rich will stand, long after we are allowed to freely visit.

Zucchini - Turkish Style - and Baklava - International Food Project

2010-08-01T14:04:00.000-04:00

Last night we went to Turkey for dinner. No, we didn’t exactly go there, but I made Turkish food. Dusty gave me a sticky note with his menu suggestion - Zucchini with rice in olive oil; Baklava for dessert; International Dinner. Ok. I searched food.com for a traditional Turkish zucchini recipe and found none. Dusty found a recipe on Binnur’s Turkish Cookbook, http.englishturkishcookbook.com and I adapted it a little, but not much. This is my version:

Zucchini with Rice in Olive Oil

In Turkish - Zeytinyagli Pirincil Kabak

4 medium zucchini - peeled; cut long ways into quarters and then chopped in half

1/2 onion, chopped in medium size pieces

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 small green pepper, chopped in medium size pieces

1 large tomato, chopped into bite size pieces

Olive oil

2-3 tbsp rice

Water

1 tsp sugar

Dill

Prep everything first - mince garlic; and chop pepper, and onion. Peel and cut the zucchini and sprinkle dill on top. Sauté the onion, garlic, and pepper together in olive oil. After a few minutes add the tomato and cook for 8-10 minutes. Add zucchini, rice, and sugar. Add water only if you’ll need it for the rice to absorb. Cover and let simmer until the rice is cooked.

Sprinkle a little more dill on top. Drizzle olive oil on top if you want. Serve at room temperature or chilled.

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Cooking Baklava presented a problem -- mainly that it sounded really difficult. I love to cook, but I’m not a baker. And I’m also not much of a dessert eater. So I had seen Baklava before, knew what it was, maybe had tasted it, but never even thought of cooking it. I found a recipe on food.com posted by MarieC. It was really and truly easy, and I followed her recipe somewhat closely. I couldn’t help but adapt it a little. Here it my version:

Easy Baklava

Ingredients -

1 (16 ounce) can refrigerated crescent dinner rolls

1 cup walnuts, finely chopped

½ cup sugar

1 tsp cinnamon

1 cup honey

2 tsps margarine

2 tsps lemon juice

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit

2. Unroll crescent rolls and place half of them spread out in the bottom of a 9x13 baking pan. Pinch the sides up a little so the filler stays in. Bake for five minutes then remove from the oven.

3. In a bowl combine nuts, sugar, and cinnamon. Sprinkle mixture over baked crust. Put the remaining half of the crescent rolls on top. Score the tops of the dough to make a diamond pattern.

4. In a small saucepan, combine honey, sugar, and lemon juice. Bring to a boil. Remove from heat and pour half evenly over top of dough. Bake for 20-25 minutes or until golden brown. Drizzle remaining honey mixture over top of hot baklava. Cool completely and cut into diamond shape pieces.

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I served the zucchini room temperature; and made some shrimp skewers to go along with them. Dusty says that the zucchini dish is a stand alone entrée, but it seems more like a side dish to me. It was easy and tasty. And, according to my favorite food taster, tasted just like they make it in Turkey.

The Baklava was a huge success. It was really tasty. I had one piece and Dusty ate the rest. The recipe I adapted from called for either walnuts, pecans, or pistachios. I like walnuts, and walnuts sounded like the most typical to me. I suggest that you use a good quality refrigerated crescent roll to get a light, flaky crust.

Spaghetti Carbonara; and Enchilada Casserole

2010-07-25T13:24:00.003-04:00

I confess I got a little discouraged about my international food project -- but only for a minute. Last week I cooked some international comfort food, supposedly Mexican, but I doubt you’d find it in Mexico. It was a tasty and easy Enchilada Casserole. Last night, I was inspired again, because Dusty asked me if I’d abandoned my international food project, and I told him that I sort of had, because I didn’t think he was into it. He suggested that I make Spaghetti Carbonara. I had never eaten that, didn’t really know what it was. So I started reading recipes and decided to give it a go. It came out really good.

Spaghetti Carbonara calls for bacon. Bacon in U.S. grocery stores isn’t so good, except for breakfast when you cook all the fat off and make it nice and crispy. In England the bacon is about what we would call ham. So for the Spaghetti Carbonara I used a center cut ham slice, that the grocery stores sell as “ham steak”. It’s about ¼” thick and I angle sliced it to make it thinner.

My Spaghetti Carbonara:

Ingredients -

½ box of spaghetti - 8 ounces

Olive oil

¼ cup dry white wine

1 center cut ham steak - angle sliced, and the bone piece discarded

2-3 cloves of garlic - minced

1 teaspoon dried oregano

2 tablespoons flour (I actually used corn starch, and I don‘t know how much)

1 ½ cup low fat milk

½ cup low fat sour cream

¼ cup parmesan cheese, finely grated (I used good quality pre-grated cheese, but not the one in a can)

¼ cup fresh parsley leaves, chopped

Pepper

Sauté the ham in olive oil in a large skillet. Then cook the spaghetti noodles. As the ham is cooking add the onions and garlic, stirring frequently. Next add the oregano. When the onions are soft, and the ham is slightly browned, add the flour or corn starch. Stir so that everything is coated evenly. Add the milk and wine; keep stirring so that the sauce starts thickening. Remove from the heat and stir in sour cream and parmesan cheese. Sprinkle pepper and parsley on top, makes a nice presentation. (I should have taken a picture.) Served over pasta, and a tossed salad on the side make an easy and sophisticated dinner. Preparation time was about twenty minutes; cooking time about the same.

Dusty, my favorite food taster and critic, said it was good, that I had the taste just right. He also said that my sauce should have been a little thinner, (maybe the corn starch wasn’t such a good idea). I didn’t know how this dish was supposed to turn out, and of course adjusting the thickness of sauce is easy enough, I could have just added water.

Enchilada Casserole:

Ingredients -

2 lbs. ground beef (I use 93% lean)

1 ½ teaspoons cumin

2-3 cloves garlic

4 teaspoons chili powder

Pepper

Water

1 cup sour cream

1 lb cheddar cheese

2 cups picante sauce

12 tortillas (I used flour tortillas, but corn tortillas might give it more the enchilada taste)

Brown the ground beef, and drain the fat. Add cumin, garlic, chili powder, and pepper to taste. Then add some water and let it simmer until most of the water evaporates. While it’s simmering away, spread ½ cup of picante sauce on the bottom of a 9x13 baking pan. Then place 6 tortillas on top of the sauce, letting the edges overlap to fit. Spread another ½ cup of picante sauce on top of the tortillas. Place all of the beef mixture on next. Spread sour cream on top of the beef mixture. And spread half of the grated cheddar on top of that. Place the remaining six tortillas on top of all of this. And then on top of that spread the remaining cup of picante sauce; and sprinkle the remaining cheddar cheese.

Bake covered for 40 minutes; and uncovered for five minutes. Mira!

Easy and tasty. This dish would be a great crowd pleaser for a Cinco de Mayo party. Serve with some guacamole and margaritas. It also is good the next day reheated in the microwave.

Third Annual Whale Shark Festival ~ Isla Mujeres, MX ~ July 16-18

2010-07-10T17:01:00.001-04:00

Isla Mujeres is one of my favorite places on earth. Dusty and I found this island paradise together on our very first vacation together. And WOO HOO! We are going there again soon on vacation. Can't wait. I wrote about the Second Annual Whale Shark Festival last year, and it's that time again. The Whale Shark Festival is next weekend in Isla Mujeres, MX. I can't make it, wish that I could. Maybe next year.

From a press release posted on Ceviche Tour's website:

Celebrating the beauty and culture of Isla Mujeres, Mexico, and championing the need to preserve a fragile marine ecosystem, ecotourism travel agency Ceviche Tours and the Isla Mujeres Department of Tourism have partnered to announce the Third Annual Whale Shark Festival, a community extravaganza that showcases the achievements, the traditions and the environmental splendor of Isla Mujeres.

The Festival will be held July 16-18, 2010 in Isla Mujeres, Quintana Roo, Mexico.

Last year thousands flocked to the family-friendly Whale Shark Festival, which offers guests an opportunity to participate in ecotourism adventures such as swimming with whale sharks, the largest fish in the ocean and an endangered species; traditional dancing performed by local troupes; exploring ancient Mayan ruins and much more.

A portion of the Festival proceeds will be donated to several environmental not-for-profit organizations.

Sustainable Eco-Tourism

The Whale Shark Festival is an effort to raise awareness of the need to preserve the area’s marine ecosystem. Isla Mujeres is part of the second largest barrier reef on the planet, and serves as the nursery of the Caribbean and the migratory path of whale sharks as well as sea turtles, water foul and game fishes.

“Sustainable eco-tourism engages guests in the effort to preserve the indigenous culture of Isla Mujeres, their way of life and the marine environment,” said John Vater, who co-founded Ceviche Tours with his wife, Adriana, and longtime friend and Isla Mujeres native Luis “Cuco” Refugio and his family. “Environmental preservation and sustainable eco-tourism will help sustain Isla Mujeres for generations to come.”

Exciting Activities for All

Guests of the Festival can participate in a wide array of activities: Bloom of 200+ Whale Sharks -- Kicking off the Festival will be the much anticipated whale shark bloom, where hundreds of these gentle giants will come together to swim in a group near the coast of Isla Mujeres. Last year was the largest aggregation ever witnessed.

Approximately 1,400 whale sharks make their way through the waters of Isla Mujeres every summer, according to Dr. Robert Hueter, Director of the Center for Shark Research, Mote Marine Laboratory and speaker at the 2009 Whale Shark Festival.

Swimming with Whale Sharks -- Guests can swim with whale sharks and join an effort by Project Domino, a conservation program implemented by the Mexican government, to protect and preserve these graceful creatures. Guests can add their underwater photos of the whale sharks to Project Domino’s visual database of the unique markings, or spots, that can identify individual whale sharks and track them. Images from the Project Domino regional database are shared with a global database from nonprofit ECOCEAN.

“International events, and especially those such as the Whale Shark Festival which have a strong local element as well, are absolutely essential to increase the conservation culture through environmental education,” noted Rafael de la Parra, Lead Marine Biologist for Project Domino, a sponsor of the 2010 Festival.

A Family-Friendly Event -- The Festival will feature activities for kids to learn about helping the environment. “Educating children about the importance of recycling, showing them how they can get involved to protect the marine environment and its biodiversity -- with beach cleanups, and just the choices they make every day – is vital to our future,” said Catalina Galindo de Prince, executive director of the nonprofit Amigos de Isla Contoy, A.C., a sponsor of the 2010 Festival.

Academic Seminars and Film Showcase -- Scientists from around the world will attend to present a series of Academic Seminars on marine biology, sustainable ecotourism and Mayan architecture.

Booking Travel Travel arrangements and bookings for whale shark tours can be made through the Ceviche Tours Website (www.cevichetours.com).

For More Information For a complete listing of 2010 Whale Shark Festival activities and for more information, visit http://www.whalesharkfest.com/ or http://www.cevichetours.com/. Ceviche Tours provides sustainable ecotourism and travel services to the Yucatan and Isla Mujeres, Mexico. Founded by John and Adriana Vater of Spa Adriana in Huntington Village, NY, with longtime friend and Isla Mujeres native Luis “Cuco” Refugio and his family, Ceviche Tours works with the indigenous islanders of Isla Mujeres to help preserve their culture and maintain the integrity and beauty of the surrounding marine environment. Through education and photo identification efforts, Ceviche Tours joins the worldwide effort to protect and preserve whale sharks. As participants on our whale shark tours, guests are invited to be part of those identification and tracking efforts.

For more information, please contact http://www.cevichetours.com/.

Photo by John Vater

More About Whale Sharks

The biggest fish on the planet is the Rhincodon typus, the whale shark, growing up to sixty feet long; primarily roaming the depths of the seas. These behemoths prefer deepest waters, only spending time in the shallows to mate or spawn. Whale sharks have been sighted as far apart as the Great Barrier Reef, the Maldives, and the Caribbean. Because of their persistent shyness, little is known about these great creatures. Scientists are not completely certain whether whale sharks should be classified as an endangered species; so worldwide efforts are taking place to count and track whale sharks. I find it fascinating to consider that an animal larger than a school bus can be so difficult to track.

Because of the ongoing oil disaster in the Gulf of Mexico scientists are especially interested to know the effect on all marine life. Non-profit organizations, researchers, and promoters of eco-tourism have drawn together to sponsor this event to raise awareness about whale sharks and the environment it calls home.

The purpose of the festival is to draw attention to the whale shark and the fragile ecosystem of the Caribbean waters surrounding Isla Mujeres. During the event, festival guests will be invited to take part in tracking the whale sharks, by being “citizen scientists” and contributing their original whale shark photos to the regional and international databases. Festival goers can swim with the whale sharks; according to John Vater co-founder of Ceviche Tours, “Swimming with whale sharks is an unforgettable experience. The Whale Shark Festival will be a tremendous opportunity for travelers to participate in ecotourism adventures and to immerse themselves in the culture of Isla Mujeres”,

Whale sharks earned their common name because of their size, not because they are whales. Whale sharks are sharks, distinguished from whales by many structural and biological differences. Like all sharks, whale sharks have a cartilaginous frame, rather than bone; and a leathery skin without scales. They also “breathe” through gills, as do fish; and lay eggs instead of giving live birth. Although whale sharks are enormous they are no threat to humans since they feed only on microscopic plankton or krill. As these ocean going giants swim along, they open their mouths wide to capture their food. Once inside their mouths, the tiny marine organisms are encased in a net-like membrane that prevents their escape. Whale sharks swim with their mouths open so wide that their mouths block their view, and they cannot see where they are going. Over time and through evolution they have adapted. They have sensors all along their bodies that allow them to locate objects in the water. This way they navigate without seeing.

Week 2 - International Food Project

2010-07-10T16:18:00.000-04:00

For the second week of this international food project I made Crispy Ginger Beef. I suppose its Chinese, it was a stir fry recipe, and it came out great. We switched the night for our international night to Fridays, because Dusty wanted to try a bottle of wine. A lot of wines give him a headache so he wanted to be sure he wouldn't have to work the next day.

I chose this recipe because I had over-bought fresh ginger for my Rogan Josh recipe last week. I discovered that I really like ginger. The smell of ginger as I'm grating is luscious. Here's the recipe, this time I pretty much followed it, and again I found the recipe on http://www.recipezaar.com/ posted by Miraklegirl:

Crispy Ginger Beef

1 lb flank steak or sirloin steak, sliced into narrow strips (I used sirloin)

3/4 cup cornstarch

1/2 cup water

2 eggs

1 large carrot, julienned

3 green onions, chopped,

1/4 cup fresh ginger, minced (I grated it)

5 garlic cloves, minced

canola oil

3 tablespoons soy sauce

4 tablespoons rice vinegar

1 tablespoon sesame oil

1/2 cup sugar

3 teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes

1. Combine cornstarch, eggs, and a little water in a large bowl. Stir to make it creamy. Use this to coat the beef. Set aside, and do all your other prep before proceeding.

2. Cut your carrots into julienne strips; chop the green onion; grate the ginger; mince the garlic; and set aside for your stir fry.

3. Combine soy sauce, rice vinegar, sesame oil, sugar, and crushed pepper in a bowl and set aside for later.

4. Start your rice. I use plain white medium grain rice. Remember 1:3 ratio. One part rice to three parts water, and you'll never go wrong.

5. In a large skillet or wok put about an inch deep of canola oil and heat it up. You want to get it hot enough to fry the beef, but not smoking.

6. Toss the beef in the cornstarch and egg mixture prepared earlier to coat it on the outside. Add it to the hot oil and cook until its crispy on the outside. If you need to, you can cook the meat in batches and set each batch aside on a plate covered with a paper towel to drain off some of the oil. After all of the meat is cooked, drain off most of the oil only enough to cover the bottom of the pan.

7. Now add the carrots, onion, ginger, and garlic -- in that order. Stir fry until the carrots are almost tender.

8. Next add the soy sauce, vinegar, sesame oil, sugar, and crushed pepper mixture to the stir fry. Heat to a boil, then add the beef.

9. Heat all of this together, and you're ready to serve over rice.

Hope you didn't forget the rice and burn it. Stir fry happens quick when its going, you have to be organized and have everything laid out and ready to go. I'm thoroughly enjoying this international cooking expedition. I don't know what country to try next week. I'll be researching recipes until I come up with something that sounds adventurous and appetizing.

There are a few unexpected bonuses related to this project. Dusty is trying new kinds of wine. He did not like the Pinot Noir he bought. I thought it was alright, but it can't go to waste, because I'll just cook with it. We'll try another bottle of wine next week. The other bonus is that that we must eat together at the table -- its a rule. We often eat in front of the TV, which is mostly ok, but cooking like this is making dinner special, and I'm liking that. And of course, trying new recipes is fun, and right now while we're not traveling, we can still taste and dream of exotic places.

Bon Apetit!

International Food Week Project

2010-07-03T13:22:00.000-04:00

So sorry I've been neglecting this blog for some time. But since it is primarily a travel blog, and I haven't been able to go anywhere .. there hasn't been much travel to talk about. I can only dream. But I also promised when I first started this blog that I would write about cooking and food too. Dusty and I came up with an idea to cook food from a different country every week. I do the cooking and Dusty is my favorite tester.

Last week, Thursday night, I created my own version of Rogan Josh. I used a recipe I found online, but I'm not very good at following recipes. It's not that I can't, its just that I don't. Mom always said if you can read you can cook. True. I like cooking because it's fun and creative. And the part of following recipes exactly, is not for me.

I don't bake very often. Which is a good thing, considering my predisposition to embellish or ignore recipe instructions. Baked goods do not lend themselves well to my creativity. So I do follow recipes when I bake, promise.

I've only eaten Rogan Josh a couple of times. Once on the cross channel ferry going to France, and it was really good. And then a couple of times purchased it pre-made from Sainesbury's. So I wasn't exactly sure how it was supposed to come out. The recipe called for lamb, which I couldn't find. Albertson's lamb was puny and the lamb at Walmart was vacuum sealed and imported from New Zealand. New Zealand lamb is supposed to be the best, but it sounded like it came from too far away for me to want to cook it. So instead of lamb I used veal. I also didn't use the cardamom pods the recipe called for, because it only called for five pods and I couldn't see spending $15. for a little tiny jar of seeds just to use five pods, so I left it out.

Here's what I used as ingredients: (more or less)
diced veal - about 3/4 pound for two people
2 tablespoons of oil - I used olive oil
2 teaspoons ground cloves
3 red chilis chopped
2 small onions chopped
2 inches fresh ginger, grated
3-5 cloves garlic, grated
2 teaspoons chili powder
1 cup of yogurt - I used plain Greek yogurt
salt
2 tablespoons tomato paste - I probably should have used more, the color wasn't red enough
1 tablespoon ground almonds

The recipe said to put the chilis and onions in a food processor, which I did not. I just chopped them semi-fine instead. I heated the oil in a large skillet and added the garlic, chilis, and meat; and sauteed them until the meat was cooked on the outside and the chilis and onions were half done. Then I added in the ginger, chili powder, stirred that all together for a few minutes. Then I added the yogurt and a little water. (I also added a couple of tablespoons of white wine, which could have been a mistake and might have been the cause of the yogurt coming out funny and curdling). I simmered over a low heat for about 15-20 minutes. Served it over rice.

It came out fine. Like I said the yogurt was a little funny, and now I think I know why. The overall flavor was good, and I would try this again. Only next time, I'll plan better and be sure to find some lamb. And next time, add more tomato paste, and probably not add the wine, or try a different yogurt.

When I grated the ginger I was astonished at the wonderful smell. I had seen ginger root in the store, but never had used it in any dish before. I'm hooked. Next week's international food project is "Crispy Ginger Beef". I already found the recipe.

I go to http://www.recipezaar.com/ and search out recipes and then, like I say, adapt them to my taste.

Bon Apetit!

Antarctica

2010-05-19T10:01:00.000-04:00

Different people enjoy leisure time in different ways. Some want nothing more from a vacation than white sand, hot sun, and icy drinks. Others want to explore the local culture, taking in museums by day and salsa clubs by night. Still others enjoy more remote exploration. Beebee is in the last group.

A few years ago we planned a trip to Mexico. Beebee opted out a few weeks ahead, because she found a better opportunity. One of her sailing buddies had booked a cabin on a cruise ship and invited her along. This was no ordinary cruise. It was a thirty day cruise, in a reconditioned Ice-cutter, that began in the Caribbean, voyaging all the way around South America‘s Cape of Good Hope, docking in exotic ports all along. Here is Beebee’s account of Antarctica:

The continent of Antarctica can be visited during their summer months. Paradise Harbor off the coast of Chile, can be reached by zodiacs or small boats.

In January 2004, our cruise ship anchored near Paradise Harbor. Only 100 people were allowed to land at a time; and only allowed to stay one hour. The harbor, as well as other areas of Antarctica, is protected from too much tourism. Only the penguins have full rein.

The Paradise Harbor penguins, called gentoos, are completely unafraid of humans. We laughed, watching them run back and forth, squealing at their neighbors, and stealing rocks from each other's nests. Penguins mate for life and share the duties of raising offspring. Penguins eat krill, a small shrimplike organism, seals eat penguins, and so it goes.

Paradise Harbor is manned by a group of Chileans who stay for the summer months, living and working in two small buildings. The scenery is spectacular, and the temperature during my visit was 34 degrees Fahrenheit. Other islands, such as Deception and Cuverviller are nearby.

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

2010-04-07T10:59:00.002-04:00

    San Miguel De Allende is unforgettable. Located in Guanajuato four hours north of Mexico City; the entire downtown is a national monument for its splendid architecture. I’ve been there twice; most recently in 2003. On my first visit many years ago, I happened upon San Miguel while roaming Mexico. After some of the dusty villages I had been through, I was instantly impressed with the rustic fairytale look of the town. A huge gothic church, La Paroquia, dominates one end of the main plaza, known as El Jardin. This main plaza is the true center and heart of the historic town. It is here that adults relax, and children play. Most evenings there is entertainment, like fire dancers, or a Mariachi group singing Mexican folk songs. On my second visit there, I found that although the town had grown some, the atmosphere had remained.

   Christmas of 2003, my brother, my niece and I stayed for two weeks in a rented house on a hill above the town. The house was not old, but its design was in keeping with the rustic feel of the entire town, down to the paint color palette - rust, yellow ochre and blue. The house was not only lovely, it was fully furnished and equipped -- full kitchen; dishes; satellite tv; bedding; and even daily maid service. Sometimes we cooked dinner, but more often we called for a taxi to take us into town. In town we chose a restaurant for dinner; had drinks after; and then walked around and shopped.

   In the old part of town, there are many restaurants to choose from serving everything from Mexican cuisine, to tacos, to hamburgers. Clustered around the town center there are taverns and bars, catering to locals and tourists alike, also many shops and art galleries. San Miguel is very much an art town. The Instituto Allende, an art school founded in the 1930’s, is still very much a part of the local culture. It attracts artists and students from all over the world due to its long standing reputation.

   When I was in San Miguel, my traveling companions, preferred to sleep late in the mornings. Although I would never claim to be a morning person, I always rose early so I wouldn’t miss one second of any day. One morning, while they were still sleeping, I walked down the hill into town. I left them a note - Went to town, I’ll sleep when I’m dead. The walk into town was a mile or so downhill, down narrow sidewalks and cobblestone streets.

   As I was walking down the hill, a man stopped me and asked me if I was from Australia. Surprised by the question, I told him no in my all American southern accent. It turned out the man, Clarence, was an American artist from Virginia, and had been living in San Miguel for over twenty years. We talked a long while standing on the sidewalk, then Clarence asked me if I could please hold his dog while he went inside the butcher shop to get his dog some bones. I held the little mongrel’s leash for another long while, hoping I hadn’t become this dog’s new owner. When Clarence finally returned he invited me to his studio to see his art.

   So Clarence, the dog, and I wound our way through the cobbled streets, off the main road into a neighborhood barrio. Like much of Mexico his neighborhood was a work in progress, under construction all around. I’ve never been quite sure whether in Mexico people build in fits and starts as their money dictates, or whether it is just the Mexican way. Clarence’s house and studio was like the neighborhood, partially completed. Almost directly outside the front door was a pile of broken up concrete that looked like it had been there weeks, months, or years. Inside was a long galley kitchen which appeared functional, but primitive. The rest of the interior was austere open plan, a hammock where he slept, a sitting area, and studio space; upstairs was an unfinished loft. Clarence’s art work in progress was a larger than life oil painting of Arthur Ashe embroiled in a passionate tennis match. The enormous action painting spanned an entire wall; home made scaffolding allowed the reach for rendering of the top details. Clarence explained that he and Arthur Ashe had been boyhood friends, and he planned to present the painting to the Arthur Ashe Foundation. I don’t know whether Clarence completed the painting. We kept in contact for a time, but eventually lost touch.

   During our two weeks in San Miguel we made some day trips to surrounding areas and attractions. One day we went to Mexico City which was wonderful and another complete story in itself. We also went to the neighboring city of Guanajuato, which has the same name as the state, Guanajuato, and is the state capital. It is about four times larger than San Miguel with a population of around 400,000, and a completely different atmosphere. The expatriate population in Guanajuato is not nearly as noticeable as in San Miguel, where there are around 10,000 or more expats of various nationalities. It seems more like a typical Mexican town than San Miguel, and not a tourist town at all. There is much to see, and like San Miguel, a town made for walking. I caution anyone walking in Guanajuato to be aware of the high altitude, as it is more than 7,000 feet above sea level.

   One day in El Jardin we met a man selling tickets to the bullfight. My niece wouldn’t go. She didn’t like the idea of senselessly killing a bull. She had a point, but my brother and I went anyway. Mexico is one of a handful of countries where bullfighting is part of the cultural heritage and perfectly legal; a hold over from Roman gladiator times.

   Many times we had walked past the entrance to the bullfighting arena, just on the edge of downtown, not noticing it, or knowing what it was. There is stadium seating around the arena, some seats are under cover, and some are not. When you buy your tickets, this is your only seating choice, sun or shade, sol o sombra. Sol is cheaper. Before the fights begin, the matadors come out, bow to the crowd, then walk around the inside perimeter of the arena. As the matadors walk, spectators throw them flowers and hats, to wish them luck and support. The matadors pick up and keep the flowers, and throw the hats back into the stands.

   I couldn’t take my eyes off the action during the bullfights. There wasn’t just one bullfight as I had expected, but around seven or eight. Different matadors, different bulls, each time. The matador and the bull engaged in a fight, a dance, to the death. The matador always wins.

   On the other side of the arena, in the stands with the shade, an orchestra plays. Vendors walk through the stands selling shots of tequila and bottles of beer. Most of the spectators were Mexican.

   Another of our day trips was a few miles out of town to a mineral spring, La Gruta, located just off the road to the small town of Delores Hidalgo. There are dressing rooms with lockers; a restaurant; and concrete swimming pools that range from lukewarm to hot. To reach the hottest part of the springs, you walk through a long four foot wide and four foot deep tunnel, into a cave. The water becomes increasingly hotter as you go. The cave, which is naturally lit by openings in the stone ceiling, is round and about 25 feet in diameter. After wondering only for a moment, why people were lining up, I found out. Every twenty minutes or so, a spout of hot water is released from above, and people take turns standing under the spout, to let the hot water beat down on their necks and shoulders. I took my turn under the spout and found it to be more relaxing than any massage I’ve ever had. My muscles felt like jelly the rest of the day. I slept like the dead that night.

   My two weeks in San Miguel de Allende went way too quickly. I want to go back. Not long after that trip I rented the movie, “Once Upon a Time in Mexico” with Johnny Depp, Salma Hayak, Mickey Rourke, and Antonio Banderas. I was delighted to discover that it had been filmed in San Miguel and Guanajuato -- I had no idea. The restaurants, the streets, the internet cafes were all in the movie -- even the red spiral fire escapes in Guanajuato. Every time I see that movie, I want to go back.

More of BigJ's European Vacation

2010-03-28T12:46:00.002-04:00

One of BigJ's goals on our Christmas vacation was to go to McDonalds in foreign countries. He wanted to see whether McDonalds food really is the same everywhere you go or not. And also, since he is a true McDonalds fan, he wanted to eat the food in a foreign land. The following is BigJ's story.

My trip to Europe was insane. I'm just a plain dude from America. I met my stepfather's family the
morning after I got there, what they call Boxing Day, what we call the day after Christmas. They're very nice people. I was a little worried that I wouldn't be able to understand their accents, but I did, it was fine.

I was mesmerized by the size of their streets. They're like two thirds of a normal road, and I don't mean a highway, I mean the road your house is on. And as everyone knows the driving is on the other side and the steering wheel is on the other side. Totally freaked me out. The first day out and about we went and did touristy things. We went to an old cityand saw a real castle. It was so big it was like the real deal.

I decided I wanted to only eat their foods that you can't get in the states. So - first meal bangers and mash. It was good. It's just sausage links and peas and mashed potatoes and carrots on a plate. No biggie. If you go there -- chill out.One thing about America -- everything's go go go. I've been a few places out of America. The rest of the world moves a little slower with service; and its not such like clock work.

We went to London. I am so blessed to have done that. It was past great. We even went to Harrod's, the most expensive store in the world. If you can ever get there please do, it's like another world, all the old sights and the things in the movies I've seen before. I saw all of that in London. I didn't get to see my Stonehenge, but that's another trip, hopefully.

So for New Year's Eve we went to Boulogne in France. Now that's more WILD than London. Everyone was like staring at me, because I'm a really tall and big guy and people don't wear Polo shirts and khakis. Little did I know at the time, that's just very American. Plus being well over six foot, I definitely had some onlookers.

And omg, THE PIZZA IN FRANCE -- I wish they could deliver to Florida. I swear to God, unless you go to the Motherland of Italy, which I haven't been to, no one holds a torch next to French pizza. Twice I had it and it blew me away, way more expensive though of course.

All in all, it was a great experience, and if you can do it -- DO IT.

Daytona Beach: "The World's Most Famous Beach"

2010-03-24T11:15:00.000-04:00

I never thought I would love Daytona Beach. After living there for 19 years, I have to say it is my home in my heart. Growing up in Jacksonville, Daytona was looked upon as a seedy tourist trap, and far beneath the attention of real Floridians. Sometime in the late 80’s, while living in Orlando, my then husband had the idea that we should move to Daytona to get out of Orlando’s party atmosphere. It turned out that party time in Daytona was more frequent and more intense than Orlando’s ever was. My ex embraced the party; I stayed home with our boy.

    It isn’t an easy place to survive. My mother liked to remind me that Volusia County, which includes Daytona Beach, is the lowest paying county in the state. One of my professors relished telling us that Volusia is a third world county. Yet, I stayed all those years, and enjoyed them.

    One of Daytona’s claims to fame is that people can drive on the beach. Many years ago they had car races on the beach; and not so many years ago driving on the beach at night was legal. It is a strange way to treat your beach -- to drive on it. The old school race fans support beach driving as a tribute to Daytona’s history. I once worked for a man that was founder of a group called, “Sons of the Beaches”, whose sole mission was to preserve beach driving for all. The turtle ladies down south, in Ponce Inlet, fought hard against beach driving in front of their homes, and won. They fought in the name of environmentalism to keep the beach safe for sea turtle nests; and in my opinion to keep the beach in front of their homes private for themselves. Sadly, a child was killed recently, run over by a car on the beach. When my son was little, we would go north to Ormond by the Sea where beach driving wasn’t allowed. It was difficult enough to keep an eye on a child in the surf, without also having to worry about traffic.

    There once was a boardwalk in Daytona, all gone now. We went there often to play at the arcades and ride the rides. I convinced my son that the Space Needle was our own personal space ship. For about two dollars you entered a round glassed in room that rose fifty feet or more into the air while rotating on a shaft. We delighted in looking down at the itty bitty people on the beach. The boardwalk had a carnival atmosphere, cotton candy, trinkets, souvenirs, T-shirt shops, air brush artists; all just ten minutes from our house everyday of the week.

    Daytona Beach has no real industry outside of tourism. Shifts of people come into town for an event and them go away only to be replaced by another shift of people. Sometime in January the race fans start coming into town. The Daytona 500 is the big one; and Nascar seems to add on another race or two every year. Race fans are mostly middle aged, and well behaved. They inject money into the local economy. They come back again in July for the Pepsi 400; now much more popular since it’s a night race, and fans don’t have to withstand the brutal midsummer midday heat.

    After the race fans leave, after the Daytona 500 is over, the bikers come. They roar into town on their shiny chrome Harleys wearing black shirts and leather. Bikers are also mostly middle aged, but not as well behaved as the race fans. A popular saying is that, they’re all doctors and lawyers in real life, although I don’t think it’s so. I think plenty of the bikers are only bikers for bike week; but also plenty are bikers all the time. Their bad behavior is their driving. Many, no not all, insist on modifying the pipes on their bikes to make them as loud as possible; and insist that “loud pipes save lives”. Some dart dangerously through traffic; likely the same ones that complain that auto drivers just don’t see them. There is no doubt that the bikers inject money into the local economy. So, they are rarely ticketed for loud pipes, although they’re illegal. Laws seem to be in abeyance during bike week. It’s an interesting way to live.

    After bike week has come and gone, the spring breakers arrive. College students from cold places come in early spring to enjoy what they consider warm weather. Locals are horrified at the sight of people swimming in the ocean in April; it’s still way too cold by our standards. Spring breakers are young, and reasonably well behaved. There is advertising headlined, “Come on vacation, leave on probation.” Spring breakers do not inject nearly the amount of money into the local economy as race fans and bikers; and it seems their indiscretions are far less likely to be overlooked. Temporary holding cells are placed behind the Ocean Center every year during spring break for breakers that get out of line, mostly for under age drinking. In roughly two year cycles the welcome mat is extended and withdrawn. Sometimes the local politicians believe that their tourist dollars are important; other times the spring breakers are deemed more trouble than they’re worth. They stay on the beachside, eat fast food, sleep on the beach all day, and go to the bars at night.

    After Memorial Day, budget conscious families vacation in Daytona Beach. The local politicians wish that Daytona could attract a more up-market class of tourists. Many of the families that vacation in Daytona are from southern states seeking the most economical beach vacation possible. As long as I can remember, Daytona Beach’s nickname has been “The Redneck Riviera”; a name that is embarrassing to some. I never minded the name.

    The best times of year in Daytona Beach are spring and fall. Spring -- after the breakers leave and before the summer families arrive; and fall -- after Labor Day and before Biketoberfest, (the other bike week in October). The town is empty, the roads are no longer busy, no lines at the restaurants. The weather is perfect, not too hot and not too cold. Daytona Beach transforms back into a sleepy beachside small town. These are the glorious days that make locals remember why we love it here.

    I feel at home in Daytona Beach, not just because I lived there for so long -- I felt at home right away. Maybe part of that feeling comes from knowing that people come to Daytona for vacation, many return year after year. And we, the lucky ones, live year round in this beautiful crazy corner of the universe.

UPDATE - 2/14/2013 - I love Daytona Beach. I'm hoping to move back near Daytona Beach soon. I don't know how or why this article has recently received so many hits ... thank you for the attention! And more pictures -

More Daytona Beach Photos

Did Someone Say Paella?

2010-03-18T11:16:00.001-04:00

    One of my favorite parts of traveling is the food. I have compiled my own collection of recipes ruthlessly adapted and shamelessly replicated from the delicious food I have eaten while vacationing and traveling. I consider cooking an art form and recipes merely guidelines to be changed, evolved and adapted at will. I share with you one of my favorites, tested and perfected. Feel perfectly free to adapt it to your own tastes and remember to use the best and freshest ingredients you can find.

    I have prepared and served paella many times using the following recipe. I am not a purist, and I do not necessarily use the traditional methods. I do not cook over an open fire and I do not use a paellera. I use a cast aluminum pan with good result. Whatever pan you use, it should be heavy enough so that the heat will evenly distribute and it must have a tight fitting top.

Paella de Marisco

Ingredients:

One pound of medium sized shrimp (25-30 shrimp per pound), peeled and de-veined
One pound of scallops
One half pound of clams
3-4 cloves of garlic, minced
Two tablespoons of fresh cilantro, chopped
One medium onion, chopped
One half tomato, chopped
Olive oil
One quarter cup of mixed vegetables, frozen or pre-cooked (corn, peas, green beans)
One half cup of dry white wine
One and a half cups of medium grain white rice, uncooked and not instant rice
One packet of Goya brand or Accent brand seasoning, with achiote and saffron

1. This is cooked on stove top, and is essentially a one dish meal. Put enough oil into the pan to generously cover the bottom. Sauté onion and garlic in the oil. Add cilantro. When the onions are half cooked and semi-transparent add the scallops, shrimp and clams and sauté gently for about 10-15 minutes; until the shrimp start to change color. Drain the liquid, and reserve it.

2. Turn your burner to low while you add the rice and measure the liquid. Cooking rice requires a 3:1 ratio of liquid to rice. Since this recipe calls for 1.5 cups of rice, you must add 4.5 cups of liquid for the rice to absorb the liquid correctly. So, add the rice to the pan. Then measure the reserved liquid, you will likely have about a cup, slightly more or slightly less. Add the half cup of wine; the remaining liquid is water. Use as much water as you need to make the total liquid including the reserved liquid, the wine, and the water to a total measurement of 4.5 cups. Add the spice packet. Turn up the heat, until it starts to bubble, it does not need to come to a full boil. Next turn down to medium, keep it covered, and let it cook.

It should take about twenty minutes for the rice to absorb most of the liquid. Now add the chopped tomato and mixed vegetables, and stir. Cover for about five minutes more, just long enough for the tomatoes and mixed vegetables to get hot. Then remove from heat and you’re ready to serve!

This recipe serves four hungry people. Black beans with a few chopped onions on top is the perfect complement. I have cooked this dish many times for American and British friends and family, and have always received high praise. But, if you cook for people from Latin America they will likely expect a rice dish to be toasted to crunchy on the bottom. To do this, turn the burner on very high at the last minute just long enough to sear the rice. It’s a little tricky on an electric stove, and most Americans would think it was a cooking mistake anyway, so I seldom do this.

This is an excerpt from an article previously written by this author and published in "Caribbean Property and Lifestyles Magazine". www.caribpro.com

Dusty's Early Travels

2010-03-07T10:12:00.003-05:00

I could feel the time coming -- the time in April or early May when I would be taken out of school for two weeks. I was just a kid, about seven or eight years old. I'd hear the key turn and click in the front door, I hadn't gone to bed yet. It was Dad home from work. I was right there, asking the question: " Have you booked our vacation?" eagerly awaiting his answer. This time it was yes.

Great excitement grew inside of me as vacation grew nearer. My parents took us on vacation each year around this time, always to the same place, a Hotel, the Hotel Cala Fornells. It was a family run hotel back then, on the island of Mallorca, more commonly spelled Majorca, pronounced "My-orca". It had its own private beach and was about two miles away, down a winding and hilly road, from a town called Paguera. This island is one of the main islands in the Balearics.

I packed my suitcase days before we were ready to leave for vacation. My love of aircraft at that early age was incessant, and this was my early love travel. The day wouldn't come soon enough, when we all got in the car and headed to the airport, London Gatwick, in England. After we checked our luggage and cleared passport control we'd wait in the departure lounge. There I would find a window and watch the planes taking off and landing.

Once it was our turn, we boarded and soon were in the air. That's the magical part about travelling -- flying. In a short two hour flight we would be on the ground in Palma. I will never forget the smell of that airport terminal -- the aroma of Spanish cigarettes and cigars. It wasn't offensive -- rather sweet and pungent. If I ever, to this day, smell the lingering aroma of Spanish cigarettes and cigars, it takes me back to these memories of childhood vacations.

Before long we would be at the Hotel Cala Fornells, we knew the owners and were quickly greeted. It was full board here, so we had missed lunch and would get a soda and snack from the bar. Mum would then head down to the private beach with us, masks and snorkels in hand. It was great for snorkelling and we would spend hours in the sea throughout our vacation, searching for unusual fish, seahorses, crabs and octopuses.

Sometimes we took the time to walk through the pine forests, to Paguera, where we played mini-golf, drank soda and ate ice creams. Back to the hotel at dinner time, and it's Paella, my favourite; followed always by ice cream, yoghurt or fresh fruit. Those yogurts were amazing, I always wanted to keep a lifetime supply of them. We took boat rides and go around some of the coves, go ashore, and even swim in some of that crystal clear sea. I remember my father hiring a small sailboat. I had sailed with my school, and when the rental company representative realised I could handle this thing, we were off, me teaching my dad how to sail!!

All too soon, we were back on the bus and heading to the airport, sometimes I would cry, I didn't want to go home, the love of travel was well inside me, no more paella, no more of that wonderful yoghurt, swimming in those crystal clear waters or playing mini-golf.

Travel has taken me far and wide. I have been fortunate in my life for that. Travel also found for me my wonderful wife in Florida where I now live, and we have an adventure together of traveling. Teaching my father to sail was great, it was the beginning of a whole new adventure. Maybe soon I'll get to write about more sailing adventures.

Island Dreams

2010-03-01T12:44:00.002-05:00

    I dream of being on an island surrounded by brilliant green sea, a place where palm trees sprout from soft white sand. I want the sun to shine bright and the sky shine blue. The fresh air breezes caress my bare arms. I watch the boats tied to the docks slow dancing with the lazy waves. More boats rest on the beach. At my table beneath the palapa, I kick off my sandals and feel the sand between my toes. My coffee and eggs taste better because I am here.
    We plan our day. Whether we will walk to the far side of the island where tourists never go; and there marvel at the ruins left by the last hurricane so many years ago, slowly being rebuilt. Or we might sail out to swim by the reef; try to touch some colorful fishes before they dart away. Or maybe drive past the jungle to the end of the island where the shrine of the Mayan Goddess Ixchel remains standing on the rocky coast.
    Or maybe we stay in town. We can wander the narrow streets and shop at the sidewalk stores. Or watch the spray paint artists in the plaza create visions of other worlds. Or we can string the hammock between two palms and make our home on the beach for the day. From there we can watch the boats carrying day trippers come and go. Late in the day after a swim or two, when the sun grows hot, a waiter serves us five bottled beers in a bucket of ice, two apiece and we share the last.
    I dream of slow sunny days in my island paradise.

A Couple of Days in France - Boulogne

2010-02-18T14:23:00.008-05:00

    The three of us set out around four in the morning to drive to the ferry port in Dover. Dusty had the unenviable job of having to drive on the left in England, then on the right in France in a right hand drive vehicle. I think the driving was harder for him coming home because we returned to England late in the day, so he had to switch sides of the road yet again, and this time it was dark. Dusty managed the driving changes like a champ, he always does.

    The car ferry was three levels with various shops, restaurants, arcades, gambling rooms, and seating areas. Big J and I, felt right at home in the video arcade, and started playing shoot ‘em up games straight away. None of us are gamblers, so we left that part alone. The duty free shop was nearly bare, and the deals weren‘t impressive. On the ferry ride home, at one of the many restaurants I ordered a lamb curry, a “Rogan Josh“. It was good, better than the curry I ate at a fancy Indian restaurant back in England. We were never able to see the white cliffs of Dover, coming or going. It was foggy leaving England, and dark coming back.

    In Boulogne, our very first project was to find the hotel we had booked online, a three star, named Hotel Alexandria. Dusty had visited Boulogne many times, but not recently. He said the town had grown a lot, and he had always come in on a private sailboat way at the opposite end of the waterfront. So, we drove in circles for a while. Dusty always insists we are not lost, because “we don’t do lost“. Dusty is great to travel with because nothing fazes him; and he always knows east, west, north and south.

    After a few passes through town, we parked the car to narrow our search to a few square blocks. We asked two young guys passing by, but they had never heard of it. Once we found the hotel, we realized we must have passed it by, over and over. At check in the desk clerk explained that the parking garage was around the block and next to a Chinese restaurant. Along with the room and garage keys, she wrote down a pass code to open the overhead door.

    If the garage were not being used for parking, it would make a great dungeon. As you drive in, there is a steep descent into a dark, damp, dingy, space. The ceiling is so low that most American trucks or SUV’s wouldn’t clear it; Big J’s head nearly touched the ceiling. We snatched our luggage and hurried out of there, happy not to have met any resident rodents.

    After dropping off our luggage in the room, we set out walking to explore. It was raining and cold, and I was the only one of us that was decked out for the weather. I planned ahead this time, and wore a pair of boots borrowed from Dusty’s mum, and an authentic Antarctica jacket, borrowed from my mom. Since I’m a Florida girl, I don’t own much in the way of winter clothes -- exactly one pair of shoes that cover my feet, and those are my sneakers.

    We walked through the old town to the fort, and then back down the hill another way. Then we stopped in a coffee shop to warm up. To me the look of Boulogne is completely foreign and European -- tall old worldy buildings towering above narrow winding streets. The differences from one place to another is what I like -- the different look, different customs, and different languages. After living in Japan as a military brat, and then returning to California, the sameness of it all made me feel like the whole of the United States was one immense military base. This was the beginning of my love of travel.

Christmas Vacation - London

2010-02-13T15:47:00.003-05:00

    Dusty, Big J, and I went to England and France for the Christmas holidays. It was very cold. We narrowly missed the even bigger chill that set in the day we flew home. The Saturday after Christmas, the three of us took the train from East Sussex to Charring Cross Station in London, walked across the bridge over the Thames and headed for the London Eye. We had high hopes that the lines wouldn’t be too long so early in the day, around 10:00 in the morning. But, no, the line was already deep enough to have made us stand shivering in the cold for hours. So we paid the extra money for the Fast Track tickets instead. It worked out to about $45. per person, and well worth it. We were onboard in less than 20 minutes.

    The London Eye, built by British Airways, is a huge glassed in ferris wheel; each compartment holds about twenty people. The highest point of the ride takes you 400’ above London, and offers breathtaking views of the city. The Thames snakes out of sight amid the rooftops. Having Dusty there to give us the guided tour and identify all those old buildings was a huge plus; but the handy guide books they give away on Fast Track might work almost as well.

    The views seen from the London Eye are impressive, and so is the way they handle security. Before boarding, handbags are checked and everyone is scanned with a metal detector. After the ride, security personnel enter each compartment and make a thorough check for anything left behind.

    Our next destination was the National Gallery of Art. Dusty and I had visited there before, and Big J couldn’t have cared less. The first time I went I cried in the Impressionist Room. I had seen so many of the paintings in books all my life, I was overwhelmed to see them in real life. The impressionist collection includes many paintings by well known artists like Degas, Cezanne, Van Gogh, and Manet. The show rotates so the paintings I saw there on my first trip had been replaced by others. I didn’t cry this time. I was happy to see more of my familiar favorites for the first time. Dusty and Big J seemed to enjoy some of the art, and patiently seated themselves on a bench once they grew bored.

       Next on our list was a pilgrimage to Harrod’s so Big J could see the world’s most expensive store. Before doing that though, we headed to Leicester Square and into a pub. Dusty and I had meant to have one and go. But, once inside the warmth, Big J planted himself comfortably at the bar, and we stayed a while. It was Big J’s first trip to London, and now his first pint in an English pub. Our turn to indulge him.

    We took the subway to the other side of London to get to Harrod’s. Dusty had warned me that London subways, the tube I think they’re called, gets very crowded. I reminded him that I once lived in Japan, nothing can be much more crowded than a Japanese subway at rush hour. I was right about the London subway, crowded, but not so bad. But, Harrod’s, the crowds there were intense. It was absolutely heaving. Dusty and Big J each bought something for friends back home. I just wanted to get out of there.
    Our day trip to London went well. Like most big cities, it is impossible to see all the sights in one day. The three of us were perfectly matched for this trip. Wherever I go, I’m happy as long as I see the art gallery. Dusty knows his way around London and never gets lost. And Big J was happy to see any of it, since it was all new to him.