mishu mathu

On rain and snow in Jordan.

2012-01-22T13:15:00.000+01:00

While I am writing this there is a snowpocalypse going on outside my window.
Not really.
Just a bit of snow and rain.
Were we in Berlin right now I would actually be worried because the ground could be frozen and the snow could create ice. But here in Jordan, the ground never freezes. It just turns into water.
But because it rains only so little in Jordan most people freak out and it badly affects the already horrible traffic.

While I write about the weather as if it's an important matter, I am mostly amused about the way everyone seems to go on and on about the condition, about the weather, if it will rain or not. I get that it's important for agriculture in this dry country. But if water conservation was a big issue houses would be better equipped with water saving appliances (let alone insulation but that's a whole different topic).

If the weather forecast predicting snow that never comes doesn't turn into a running gag it actually does rain. But in Jordan, similar to Yemen where I had the pleasure of experiencing both rainy seasons of the year during my short 10 week stint, when it rains it pours. And because Amman is a city filled with steep hills, streets turn into rivers of water flowing down.
Rain in Amman is much more vicious thanks to the crazy winds (that bring sand to the city on the days it isn't raining), slamming itself against windows, running down the side of houses but, gladly the sewage system is better and doesn't create this (a family died there in 2010, thinking they could pass the water in their car. Most Yemenis don't know how to swim.).

A few things happen when it rains in Amman: people drive extra aggravating slow, still more accidents happen and going out can be a rather lonely affair. Yes, it rains and everybody stays in.

Internet reading in January so far.

2012-01-17T12:58:00.000+01:00

Things I have read on the internet in January so far include some interesting articles. I am feeling very generous today and thought I'd share. And I might do this more often if you like it.

In December I would have loved to be in Queensland to watch this space being transformed by children.

There was another art project I stumbled upon. I am a sucker for time lapses. This one shows the whole of 2010 in one picture.

As I have become rather obsessed with instagram (but in a good way! Promise! It makes me take more pictures. I am still working on picking up the camera more but I am already calling it a success.) and found this article pretty explanatory for myself but also for those who aren't very familiar with the app.

I generally don't like tumblrs (probably because I don't understand the concept and because I don't want to understand them) but there are some exceptions, of course. There is the one about Kim Jong Il which feels almost like a classic by now. Recently I found this one and it's equally amusing.

If time and money permitted and whatever else hinders year round traveling this list by the New York times would be guideline along the world.

How school life could be I found in an article about a swedish school. I love the architecture and every concept behind it. When I think about the teachers alone I used to have in school this would not be an option. And while Sweden is setting a positive example, a story in Texas is rather different and scary.

I am a big fan of Mark Bittman who is an excellent cookbook author and contributor to the New York Times. This article about a decreasing meat consumption in America made me a little hopeful without getting my hopes up.

I am also a fan of David Sedaris (I need more of his books. Last count was only 4) and wish to see him read one day. He gave an interview recently which is funny and worth reading!

But articles aren't the only thing I have found online in the past. My favorite music of the last weeks has come from a variety of artists. To name a few: Zola Jesus, Austra and, because it doesn't fit, at all, Alexander.

The first two I found thanks to the amazing playlists the amazing Jason Hudson creates. He is also an incredibly talented photographer and has a way with words I love. If you like music and photography you should check out his blog regularly.

The latter I found through Holly who's blog I have been reading for a good three years now. She's made a list of "Songs That Drove My Neighbors Crazy" which has led to a few impulse purchases on iTunes including the album by Iron & Wine she posted. I am now impatiently waiting for the 27th of January when Lana del Rey's album becomes available (I didn't like the song at first, gave it a chance and fell head over heels when I heard it round two towards infinity).

I am also planning to think about all the book I read this year. Let's see if I can come with enough to write about. For Christmas I got some really nice ones too. Let's talk about books next, yes?!

Jordan in December: Salt.

2012-01-15T13:15:00.000+01:00

I have the best intentions. I always do.
I want to write more and do more. Read more important things and less irrelevant. And then I let more than a week pass between receiving my films from the developer and sharing them.

One Friday in December my husband and I went to the city of Salt. It was cold and gloomy and all I had requested to do for that day was walk. Something we don't do often enough.
Going to Salt almost doesn't feel like leaving the city of Amman that's how close it is.
It been Friday meant most shops were closed but all we didn't mind.
You could read up on Salt and its long history here.

Christmas Cookie recap.

2012-01-06T15:04:00.000+01:00

The following post is going to be epic and probably couldn't come at a more inconvenient time given that it's about cookies and Christmas, the big cookie baking holiday season, is a mere two weeks behind us.

Here is the thing: I make cookies all year round (and not just the chocolate chip variety) and except for one kind (and even that one kind could be made year round and it's just me because these equal Christmas for me), I don't see a reason why you can't make the following ones throughout the year.

Of course, I am writing this now to convince you to give up on those resolutions you might have committed yourself to three days ago.

(And the real reason: I wanted to write all this the week before Christmas already but never got around doing it because I forgot my cameras' memory card in Jordan. Sorry. I hope you weren't planning to go on a diet anyway. Because diets aren't any fun, anyway.)

Life is too short to live without a good cookie or two.

Anyway.

Welcome to my idea of a cookie plate.

This plate shows six out of nine different cookies I baked for Christmas. I had, quite naturally, a huge amount of cookies on hand which I divided in half. One half was left behind in Jordan (and later consumed by my husbands family), the other half traveled with me to Berlin where my family has been munching on them. I tried as many recipes as I wanted without having to eat them all. Win-win.
(I was this crazy person on the plane who hand carried six Tupperware (or equivalents) containers filled with baked goods across the Mediterranean. Some things just have to be done.)

Here is what I made, broken down:
There are Chocolate Crinkle Cookies (on the far left) that I already made this spring but liked enough, I wanted more. Also: They are a kids favorite.

Then I made the Benne Wafers (on the left, below the Crinkle cookies) from the Gourmet Cookie Book which, as well, I had already made in the spring. This time - because I now live in a country where light brown sugar is available - I followed the recipe to the T and they came out the way they're (I suppose) supposed to. And here is Luisa's take on said book (and cookies) back in December 2010.

I followed those with another favorite of mine which you can read about here (there were other recipes I wanted to try but I had told my mother about several recipes, I wanted to share some with her). This is the amazing pinolate (right in the middle) with only an egg white, almonds and pine nuts and sugar, but no butter or flour.

My biscotti Lucia is improving (in the front) (compared to my first try this summer) but still needs some more work before I would want to share it (their flavor is amazing, otherwise I wouldn't have bothered making them again). By now, though, I am really not sure what I am doing wrong (although, more egg white might be the solution).

Way in the back you can see another cookie Luisa wrote about around two years ago which is called: Cardamom Pistachio Cookie. My husband loves shortbread and has been requesting shortbread cookies for months even going so far and threatening to buy it (it's a no-go. We don't buy baked goods around here. Ever. It sounds hard but I do bake a lot and we still have candy!). For me, by the way, shortbread and sugar cookies are interchangeable terms. I don't put eggs or leavening agent in my sugar cookies which means the ingredient lists are, more or less, the same. So this is a sweet, delicate little cookie that doesn't need rolling out but can be cut from a log and baked. Before you bake them they get topped off with some crushed pistachios and decorating sugar if you have any (I didn't and also didn't want to use normal white sugar so my cookies came out a little less sweet, but that's never a bad thing). The cardamom is in the dough and gives a very delicate but unmistakable lemony flavor.

The one cookie I always make for Christmas is on the far right: Zimtsterne. This (but with almonds only) looks like a good recipe but it's not the one I used. I have a trusted recipe I couldn't find back in December. They are, like others, gluten free and use only almonds, egg whites and lots of sugar. And cinnamon, of course.

There is one more cookie you needed to make yesterday. It's another Gourmet Cookie Book cookie and although the recipe could look long and daunting (make a shortbread base, pre bake it, make caramel (!) and then bake everything together) it's actually really easy. There are two preconditions: You have to like honey and nuts in baked goods and you won't blame me if you finish the whole pan.
I made this recipe for Honey Nut Squares the first time two years ago following this recipe without paying much attention where it was from. This year when I leafed through the Gourmet book I bookmarked it. But it wasn't until I set out to make it from the book that I realized it was the exact same thing.

Finally, I am actually sharing a recipe with you today! Yeah!
(If you're still awake that is, or made it until here...)
I know that Ginger Molasses cookies could trigger Christmas feelings and maybe you could crinkle your nose that I am telling you this isn't a Christmas cookie. Also the addition of cinnamon and cloves doesn't help (in my parents household those spices are a definite Christmas flavor). But these cookies could be eaten year round! They are like - if I am allowed to compare flavors - the grown up, delicate and chewy version of a graham cracker - which also has cinnamon and molasses in it! (And if they weren't too big I'd mistake them for Amarettini.)

These as well as two other recipes come from the Biscotti book with "Recipes from the kitchen of the American Academy in Rome" and I am really loving it. Because it uses so many egg whites instead of egg yolks I am tempted to put the ice cream machine back into the freezer - it would justify making meringues and having ice cream on hand as well.

Mary Pat's Ginger molasses Cookies
adapted from the Biscotti book

150g (5 1/2 oz.) butter
200g (1 cup) sugar
115g (1/3 cup) molasses
1 large egg
395g (2 3/4 cup + 1 tablespoon) all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 tablespoon ground ginger
3/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon

100g (1/2 cup) granulated sugar for coating

Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Reduce the speed to low and add the molasses in a steady stream, then add the egg. Scrape down the sides of the bowl to ensure everything is incorporated.

Sift the flour, baking powder and soda, salt and spices. Add the dry ingredients to the wet mixture. Mix until all ingredients are well incorporated. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F.
Roll 10g/ 1/4oz balls out of the dough (MM: I actually weighed each and every ball in an effort for uniformity which resulted in double the amount of cookies the recipe said: 90 instead of 35 to 40, not that I complained.) and coat each ball in the reserved sugar.
(MM: Before you coat them: This would be the moment to freeze them for up to 2 months!)

Allow the dough to come to room temperature before baking and leave 3cm/ 1 1/4inch space between each on the cookie sheet. Bake for 10-12 minutes until golden brown (MM: check underneath to make sure they don't brown too much!).

They are best eaten fresh but will keep for up to 2 weeks in an airtight container.

A rant - on Jordan and the system.

2012-01-05T09:42:00.001+01:00

I usually don't get very annoyed about Jordan. Sure, some things could be more exciting (like where to go if not to the mall, especially with kids, especially in Winter). And the people often make me roll my eyes a lot (especially men, especially when they're obnoxious). But generally speaking I shake off things that don't work here that I am used to working smoothly in my overly bureaucratic homeland.

Turns out, this is only the case until it concerns me too.
My home country is a federal state with subdivisions beyond the central government - like America or Spain. Some things are the independent responsibility of said subdivisions like public holidays or school holidays. There is coordination about the when's (to avoid major traffic jams, e.g.) the if's are theirs (I used to go to school (in the 'burbs) and my neighbor didn't because he was "across the border" and had a winter break).
Having said that, no matter if you went to a public school or a private school (and there were few anyway) you had the same, reliable holiday schedule.

Can you already tell where this is going? My stepson is at a private school right now attending KG2 (also known as the year before junior school). His school doesn't celebrate Christmas or New Years but emphasizes on the Islamic calendar (it's not surprising, he's at the Islamic college). He should have gone to school between Christmas and New Years but didn't for various reasons. This week he went back while his sister who is in grade one is at a different school with a different schedule. Her school ended on the 20th of December, she has been home this week.

Now, I didn't like that the Christmas holiday schedule didn't overlap (because getting one kid out of bed while the other one stays is a pain the ass) but for just a week, I didn't mind. As it turns out, my stepson will come home from school today and stay home until the 6th of February.
While my stepdaughter is going back next week until the end of February when she has 10 days off of midterm break. Taken together they have the same number of days off.
(She also has Easter holiday; I haven't even checked if he will be home for that or not.)

My first annoyed thoughts turned to my stepsons school for various reasons including the Christmas holiday. But actually, upon closer inspection: it' my stepdaughters school which isn't following the rules. My stepsons school behaves like the public schools and other private schools.

This all might come of as a petty problem because this country has other, more pressing issues. At the same time, I consider this a completely unnecessary failure from the ministry of education. The whole country is ruled centrally and at the end of the year, all students nationwide take the same tests. You can't make the schools stick to a schedule? Come on.
Given the fact that right now I am a housewife, my mother in law lives just a floor below us and adores her grandchildren we are able to manage. But I can't be the only one trying to figure out what I would do if I was working (working on that!). Take off 6 weeks from mid-December to the end of January? Really? Yeah, no.
If all goes well, my stepson will join his sister when he starts grade one. And we'll have proper Christmas breaks to go to Berlin, ride carousels at the Christmas market and visit animals at the zoo.

Berlin on Instagram, part II

2012-01-03T18:58:00.000+01:00

First things first: Happy New Year!
I hope you had a blast! And nobody got hurt. And that 2012 will be everything you want it to be and then some!
We had quite the quiet evening inviting my husbands family (his sisters who live in the Gulf showed up for a surprise visit) for a cheese fondue and taking it easy all around.

When my husband arrived we took it easy for two days with the family.

There was tree decorating. And afternoon cookies.

There was a feast of roasted duck.

There were after lunch walks and the keeping of traditions.

But there was more. Endless rounds of Glühwein at the Christmas market and more walking, walking, walking.

There was food, of course! Korean lunch and hot chocolate.

We also went to the c/o Berlin. If I can't make it to any museum (our last minute, "let's go now"-plan was thwarted because apparently ALL tourists had decided to go to a museum on December 28) the c/o Berlin always works. And never disappoints (even if the exhibitions did, I would just go because of the location. They don't, luckily.).

And yes, apparently I have turned into one of those people who take pictures with their mobiles in public spaces. BUT! There are film pictures. I am just not sure you still want to see those when they are finally developed. Right now they are sitting next to me on the desk. So, instagram/mobile pictures will have to do for now.

Berlin on instagram.

2011-12-23T13:55:00.000+01:00

If you haven't seen them yet, I have been taking some pictures while I am in Berlin.
(click on the images to see them bigger on flickr with captions!)

Merry Christmas from Berlin to wherever you are.

In a little while I'll be at the airport to pick up my husband who is joining us in the celebrations.

Christmas in Berlin is this year more like a dreary November day with lots of rain and temperatures far far away from frost and snow.

The Berlin vs. Amman feeling.

2011-12-22T01:20:00.000+01:00

When I think about how I feel about Berlin I inevitably think about my hometown in comparison to my city of residence.Which, in itself, is mean, unfair and just makes me long for Berlin long after I have returned to Amman.

Although Berlin is by far not a metropole like other, bigger and more populated cities in this world, in comparison to Berlin, Amman feels almost provincial. With its lack of activities and events, diverse places to go, self-absorbed citizens caring for themselves first and then a long time nothing (but having an irritatingly big amount of interest into your shortcomings) and its almost religious obsession for shopping and spending, spending, spending.
(The worst of it all.)
I like to shop like every other girl.
In Amman though, it had become almost an obsession, although I too rarely leave the house to justify any purchases.
In Amman though, and I realized this now and here in Berlin were I felt dread over purchasing my last Christmas gifts (instead of just walking, walking, walking and seeing as much as I could), the "retail therapy" term suddenly makes sense.
I shop in Amman because there isn't much else to do.
(I am generalizing and exaggerating, of course. But it does feel that way sometimes. Less than a month ago yet another, bigger, better mall has opened while film festivals don't get half the attention they deserve.)
Sure, I haven't been to the museum I had promised myself but the pure act of walking aimlessly even now in the cold winter (I am a wimp I was told. It's unseasonably warm right now.) is already so very enjoyable. I window-shopped the other day (standing next to one of Germany's most known singers who seemed to look for Christmas gifts as well - and no one cared, I love this!) and stopped here and there in small places with things produced in Germany, in Berlin.

There is no such thing as aimlessly walking in Amman. Sure, certain areas are easier to navigate by foot then others but their size is limited. And they don't cluster. Between each small cluster (often just a single street), if it exists, is almost always a slope, a valley and a steep hill again. Amman's geography certainly doesn't help. Berlin is more clustered and within those clusters more dense in architecture than Amman (which could be great! Empty spaces! So much potential while it lies idle! But nobody there, claiming the public space even just for a short amount of time). This density in urban planning makes Berlin appear much bigger than it is, while, in fact, Amman is double its size. (I doubt that, to be honest, but then again I only navigate half the city, the rich and Western style West.)

I love the coffee shops here which (mostly) are much smaller than the ones in Amman, locally grown not another franchise (of course, the franchise is here too, but Starbucks isn't (almost) The. Only. Option.). I love how unassuming, sometimes a little shabby they are. It is not totally uncommon that blue and white collar workers drink their beverages side by side. An idea impossible in Amman where the inequality of income forbids it the former to be in the same places as the latter.

I know (or so I've heard) that Amman has come a long way compared to what it was like just ten short years ago. But yes, of course, it's not moving fast enough for me.
Amman will never be what Berlin is for me and I will always have difficulties explaining it to someone not from Berlin. I know that yet cannot help myself. If it can't be Berlin I wish Amman and its citizens would pick up a few things from a not too far away city that has so much to offer: Beirut.

About the traffic Amman.

2011-12-17T18:38:00.000+01:00

There are some things you should know about traffic in Jordan, particularly Amman.

Lanes are overrated.
Most of the time you won't be able to see the lanes on the streets because there a) aren't any lines or b) they have faded and nobody bothered to redo them.
But even where you can see them it's best if they stay ignored. Because that's what everybody else does and adjusting to the others - driving four lane style where only three lanes are - is much easier when you don't stick to your lane.

Signaling is overrated.
More than half the time, the person in front of you will take a left or right turn without telling you so. You will know when you suddenly see their rear lights going up, you need to brake and somehow avoid that the person behind you drives into you.
I have taken a special hating to people doing this. Because it happens all the time. Sometimes, while you wait at a red traffic light, a car will drive up next to your right side and signal. It's as if the driver was saying: "I am a rude prick who doesn't give a shit about you, now, please let me in before you?"

Accidents ruin everything.
Oh yes, you think, same here. Traffic accidents are always annoying and never pleasant. But there is a catch. In Jordan (it can't be just Amman can it?) people often remain at the spot where the accident happened. To save the proof or whatever. And because it's easier on them this way, considering that there is never an empty space around in which to bring your vehicle while you wait for the traffic police (which, not uncommon, might take an hour, maybe more). Ammani streets, though, have no space to accommodate such situations. It inevitable turns into a traffic jam mess because nobody wants to let the other in but wants to be the first person out of it.
(Often, you will find a police man next to the hit car in the middle of the street whose being there is unclear and who behaves completely useless.)

Your horn is a valuable weapon.
Use it where you can, when you can. To signal somebody to move out of your way, to tell somebody that s/he should pay attention to others on the street, to voice your anger over somebody's style of driving.

Don't ever make space for others.
When you drive around, make sure you always stick to the car in front of you. Do not leave space. As soon as the gap is big enough for another car, it will be filled. Everybody is always in a hurry, always trying to rush through the streets. Your personal goal is to be close enough to the car in front of you to make sure you don't do any favors but at the same time leave enough space to allow to brake when the car you're creeping up to suddenly decides to brake.

Park wherever you want, however you want.

This one might not be very convincing without pictures, but let me tell you: Ammanis are the worst car parkers I have ever seen. Diagonal on two spots, unable to accomplish parallel parking, occupying half (or more) sidewalk with your big ass vehicle. And come to think of it, it's not all that surprising, at least for those in West Amman. Most shops, restaurants, malls have valet - if you don't want the hassle, pay one JD and you don't have to worry.

Ignore signs. Especially Stop and No Entry signs.
Drive wrong way into a one way street! And then use your horn if the person coming from the other (the right!) direction doesn't want to give you way. Drive past stop signs without stopping, ignore priority signs, they're for the weak.

Pedestrians are your enemy.
I do have some sympathy for pedestrians having walked around this city (or tried) in the past. There aren't a lot of pedestrian crossings or proper ways to cross a street. They aren't proper sidewalks how could anyone expect there to be proper behavior towards pedestrians?
The safest way to cross a street in Amman is, indisputable, a pedestrian bridge. What is infuriating: Those pedestrians close to the bridges trying to cross 6 lane highways (or whatever number of cars try to drive next to each other). They always seem a little suicidal.

When you think you can finally speed, there will be a bumper.
You are always in a hurry, always late for something, never on time and there are hundreds of people around you facing the same issue. When you finally knocked everyone out and see yourself facing an empty patch of street on which to break the speed limit, there will be a bumper. They are everywhere. And they are there for a reason, I believe. (You don't really believe anybody cares for the speed limit within cities? Where I come from you have to slow down in residential areas, not so here.)
Instead of having a reliable, accountable police force giving you speeding tickets, the government puts up bumpers to make you slow down. They will be where you least expect it.

Forget what you've learned about the rules of driving and pretend you're alone on the streets. Then you'll be able to imagine what driving here is like.
Beware, although you try everything to be as fast as possible when driving around (horn, as little distance as possible, as many lanes as will fit on the street, furious road rage) you will, inevitably, be stuck in traffic. There is no way out of it. Modern Amman, although no more than 100 years old, is a big example for horrible urban planning, lack of foresight and accommodating the ever growing number of vehicles on the streets.

Gingerbread anything.

2011-12-14T16:08:00.000+01:00

I have one distinct memory of making a gingerbread house when I was a kid.
It was a ready made kit and all you had to do was assemble and decorate it.
Not knowing where we went wrong (the royal icing too thin?!) I just know that it was a disaster. Collapsing walls and ceilings and not the fun and joy it's supposed to be.

I've always wanted to try it again, but having kids - of some sort - is mandatory.
So this year, with my stepchildren around, I embraced the gingerbread house making and we came up with this.

The kids had a blast, I am cured from my fear. I also thought we would keep said house in the house given that our Christmas decorating was limited to a few string lights and paper snowflakes along our biggest window.
Alas, I wouldn't have it my way. As soon as the last m&m was glued on and the sprinkles were (almost literally) licked off the table, my stepchildren asked when a) we would be able to eat it and b) when we would make another one. They are greedy like that.
It was soon decided that we'd let one of them take the house to school to share with the class.
So, what to do with the other kid who did not, to no surprise, like the idea of parting with the house without getting anything of it?!

Well, I bought those.

And then we made these.

And these as well.

(Did we overdo it? I searched for inspiration online and found those to be utterly bland and boring.)

The kid took them to school, everybody loved them, his teacher asked for the recipe and we now have a surplus of candy at home leftover from the decorating (I am not complaining).

___
With this post, I am also sharing something else with you: I have discovered that if my husband doesn't want to buy me an iPhone (besides the unavailability of the 4s in Jordan as of now), I will just have to snatch it away from him to no longer miss out on the joy that is instagram. I'd been looking at other peoples pictures on the iPad we own, but didn't realize I could take pictures with that too (The two ginger bread people pictures were taken with it and although the quality is fine one the screen, it does show here that the iPhone camera is clearly superior in low light situations. I am practicing and so it's okay).
So, as weird as it feels, taking pictures with a mobile (or even the iPad) has much less intimidating qualities as taking pictures with a real camera (I took her out with me on Saturday to the city of Salt, it was grand!).

Apple Torte.

2011-12-08T15:07:00.000+01:00

I don't wait for occasions to occur when I want to bake. There are never enough occasions anyway.
I usually stare into the fridge/pantry/open air until an idea materializes. And then I go search for a recipe or, if I am lucky, remember one on my endless list of things to make (It's a google doc but I have started to print them out. So there is now a loose pile of papers sitting next to my cookbooks).

This cakes occasion presented itself in the form of three 7oz. packages of cream cheese in my fridge that my husband had bought for me when I was on the verge of tears over this one.

I also had some sad apples sitting around in the fruit bowl. And some time.
Because that's the one thing this cake really requires: Time.
There are three parts: A crust that needs chilling and par-baking, a sweet cream cheese filling and maple syrup sweetened apples.
At the same time, it's a really easy cake. No difficult things here, no caramel making or butter cream churning.
My husband took a bite and declared it to be one of the best cakes I have ever made.
My stepchildren each ate a slice and like it, despite it having fruits on it (which is a big dessert no-no in this house).
I very much liked it, but I am glad about the changes I made.

(Can you tell that this whole taking pictures in the dark thing is getting better!?)

Apple Torte
Adapted from Dana Treat who adapted it from "The Greyston Bakery Cookbook"
Makes one 9" cake

I always worry about desserts being overly sweet and this certainly is on the quite sweet side which is probably why my stepchildren liked it.
I reduced the amount of sugar and maple syrup in the topping by half and omitted the apricot jam. The recipe has you spread half a cup on the crust before you add the filling.
The recipe below reflects my adaptions.

For the crust
1/2 cup (1 stick, 113 grams) butter, at room temperature
1/3 cup sugar (67grams) sugar
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract (MM: I don't recall adding any. I find the amount of vanilla extract used in most American recipes rather overpowering and when dealing with delicate flavors like maple syrup and apples I would rather have those shine. But I give the measurements anyway.)
1 cup (128grams) flour

For the filling

1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, at room temperature

1/2 cup (100grams) sugar

1 egg

1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

For the topping
3 medium Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
1/8 cup (25grams) sugar
1/8 cup (25grams) maple syrup
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/2 teaspoon grund cinnamon
1/2 cup slivered almonds (MM: I didn't measure these, I went by feeling.)

Prepare the crust:
Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C and grease a 9" springform pan.

In the bowl of an electric mixer, cream together the butter, sugar and vanilla if using. Use a fork or your fingers and work the flour into the mixture until it resembles coarse crumbs. Press the mixture into the springform pan and 1"(2.5cm) up the sides. Pierce the bottom several times with a fork and chill for at least 30 minutes.
Bake in the oven for 12 to 15 minutes, until the pastry is set and golden. Cool on a wire rack.

Prepare the filling:
While the crust is baking, beat together the cream cheese and sugar. Add the egg and vanilla. Spread the filling over the prepared cold crust.

Prepare the topping:
In a large bowl, combine the sugar, maple syrup and spices until the sugar is mostly resolved. Add the apple slices and carefully coat with the sugar mixture.
Arrange the apple slices in concentric circles over the filling.
Bake for 10minutes, then reduce the temperature to 350°F/175°C. Remove the tort from the oven, sprinkle with the almonds and bake for another 30 minutes until the apples are tender (MM: check the cake regularly. My cake took another 15 minutes longer until it turned from pale to slightly golden.)

Let cool on a wire rack before you remove the sides of the pan.

Storage: This cake keeps for about 3 days but needs refrigeration. After two days the apples start looking a little tired but still taste fine.

Dana recommended brushing the apples with some warmed apricot glaze to make them shine. And while I am sure it would look pretty, I simply dusted them with some powdered sugar.

Winter Farm.

2011-12-07T14:09:00.001+01:00

A few weekends ago we went up north to our "farm" which isn't so much as a farm as it is a piece of land with mostly olive trees.
What makes it special is the adjacent pine and oak forest and the fact that between the olives the previous owners also planted yellow plum and some fig trees.
We went up there this summer and came home with about 50 kilo of plums - distributed among my husbands sisters. I made jam out of most of them.

There are still some olives on the branches but most have been turned into olive oil already.

In a country mostly devoid of trees that change colors and leaves, going to the farm is as close as it gets to autumn.

Among others things: I love going there in every season. Because the air is clean and smells of forest and pines.

Week Fifty Two. One Day at a time.

2011-12-05T17:47:00.000+01:00

This is it.
The final One Day at a time post.

Over a year ago (I skipped a Monday or two at the beginning) I wrote this and started a new project that would make me accountable, practice my writing and share my findings.
In this first post I linked to a German author who just recently (last week) died and her project about writing for decades about one specific day a year. Interesting for me is the fact that I never used these Monday posts to write about. So, looking back, I pretty much failed.

I wrote about something every week, but it didn't have anything to do with that specific day. The reason is quite simple and if you go back here to the very first week you'll know why: Nothing happened on Mondays. Or Tuesdays. Or Wednesdays, Thursdays or Fridays for that matter.
I would wake up early, commute to my universities library, sit by the window, write, panic, write and go home after seven hours.
I miss those days. (They lasted four months, by the way.)
(Dear Self six years ago, when you started studying your Master Thesis was already making you nervous. Mark my words: You will miss writing it once it's done!)

But for a writing project I picked the wrong time. Here, in week four, I still go on about the writing but (!) I also tell you about where I grew up and there are some pictures too!

I give you my unasked for wisdom in week six. "Some things aren't worth fighting for." True that. Or in other words: Pick your battles.
Come here and have a look at the best of 2010 (there are some really nice pictures among them!)! Maybe I'll do the same for 2011, maybe not. I am still undecided.

Week nine and that particular Monday was really important. It marked the end of daily commutes to the library and the end of writing my Thesis. (Can you sense the excitement in my words?! I can, I know.)

I love the sea. It's magical. When this year is over I will have known my husband for almost five years. But this year was the first time we spent his birthday together. He's been - for what it's worth - with me on each one of mine.
It's always pretty obvious (at least to me) when I am in an uplifted mood. My writing is accordingly.
Here is more proof of the uplifted mood. And a list of things I loved in March.
I am re-reading my posts while I am writing now and have reached Week Twenty Five which means we are well into May but I wasn't showing you pictures of Jordan (which I reached earlier that month) but Potsdam! Look, it's really nice!

Are you still with me, reading along? Then, go and check week twenty six - halfway there! - in which I tell you about domestic help in the bubble of West Amman.
In June, my brother came to Jordan! Oh, we had so much fun! Read about my Beirut drama here (It all ends well, thank god!). After that I went to Berlin. It was grand and I made a list (I love list).
Let's skip through August (My birthday month and this year's month of Ramadan) and head straight over to September. Because we travelled some more. But this was different. It was a family trip, a vacation without a boring beach but two lively children.

In October, I became an employer. The awkwardness is gone, mostly. She knows her tasks and I have gotten better at giving instructions, generally speaking. (We're still working on some details.)

Read this post here from four weeks ago and learn something about Islam and its holidays...!

It's been quite the year. The good and the bad. The fun and the exhausting. It's been fun documenting these things even though my medium of choice hasn't been, looking back now, the best. Finding a post with just the One day at a time thing as a title is a little challenging.

But I am glad for every word I wrote.

Why do

2011-12-02T12:09:00.001+01:00

Why do mosques broadcast their sermons on Fridays via loudspeakers to the outside world?

It's not as if you could understand a word.

The speaker quality feels like last century technology and as every mosque broadcasts their sermon, Friday mornings are just full of sound in the air.

It doesn't last long. After a half an hour everything is over and the streets are surprisingly full for about five minutes while everybody is hurrying home.

(Again, rarely people walk. Even my husband, in the days he went to the mosque on Fridays, would take his car even though it's a walking distance.)

Week Fifty One. One day at a time.

2011-11-28T14:27:00.001+01:00

The following post covers two subjects: The Weather and, to a lesser extent, how I feel about pre-Christmas in Jordan.
You might want to skip this post due to its lack of excitement. I don't want you to fall asleep over this.
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.
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Can you believe yesterday was the first advent?
Another five weeks and this year is over. I find this thought rather scary.
It makes me a little sad.
2011 has been a good year, more or less.
It's been over so fast.
It wasn't supposed to be like that.

Being in Jordan for the first time during Advent (do English natives refer to the four Sundays before Christmas to Advent or is that a German/European thing?!) makes me feel very out of place and not only because this is a majorly Muslim country.
There are Christians (around 6 per cent?!) and they have their shops with Christmas trees and decorations.
There are advertisements all over town for Holiday specials although, last time I checked, the big Islamic holidays everybody could be shopping for are behind us. They must refer to Christmas.

We have nothing in the house that is remotely Christmas-sy (except for our maid who keeps saying "When this month is done, then it's December, then Christmas and then Happy New Year!" (she is Sri Lankan and therefore Buddhist so I really don't know why she is so obsessed with New Years Eve.). We have no string lights, no wreaths at the door, no calendars counting down the days, no mantle pieces and no Advent wreath with four candles.
(We might have a gingerbread house later this week but only if I actually get around to do it and can muster the patience to tolerate both my stepchildren in my kitchen at the same time.)

Before I moved here I always had string lights on my windows, baked some sort of Christmas cookie(s) and no matter how broke I was, single or in a relationship, I had an Advent wreath. I loved this weekly ritual of lighting a new candle.

It's difficult to get into the right feeling for Christmas in a country that feels one month behind, weather wise. For me, with my middle European origin, October is the golden month. The light is amazingly beautiful, the leaves change color and the temperatures, if we're lucky, are getting lower but still give some warmth. While November is, traditionally, grey and dark with barely any sunshine. In Berlin, November is usually annoyingly wet, cold and windy and altogether rather unpleasant (which is why, newcomers to the city who rave about the city in summer are always invited to come back in November and say, if they like it just as much as November and Berlin is rather tough love). In good years, Decembers are amazing in Berlin. Blue skies, some clouds, cold but bearable thanks to the sun and maybe even dusted in snow.
I am a little obsessed with the weather and seasons in general, I know.

Jordan is, weather wise, a little like the movie Groundhog Day - every day is the same. True, the temperatures have been dropping and it did rain a while ago but most days are more of the same: sunshine and barely a cloud in the sky. Most of the year, Jordan has this almost blinding and relentless sunshine. For the past weeks the light has softened and it has felt increasingly autumnally.
But this is my trouble: my inner clock is not in fall mode anymore.

I wake up every morning hoping the sky is overcast and it's raining to justify not only staring at cookie recipes but actually bake cookies. I will take some to my parents for Christmas not matter what even if the weather is not cooperating to get me into the pre-Christmas mood.

{Fifty one down, one more to go.}

Sweet Potato Galettes and being on the mend.

2011-11-24T13:12:00.000+01:00

For the past couple of days I have been in a rather sad place, cooking wise.
My stepchildren kept complaining the food I was putting in front of them wasn't tasty.
(Or at least not as good as their grandmothers which doesn't come as a surprise really given the fact that my mother in law cooks traditional Arabic food with lots of rice which they are accustomed while I prefer lighter dishes centering around vegetables rather than meat.)

I cannot really blame them. The food I have put in front of them those past days didn't live up to my own standards. I wasn't happy with what I made, they didn't like it.
In just three days I came to dread dinnertime. But even before all those flops I felt terribly uninspired to even come up with a meal plan for this week.
Not sure where this all comes from.

When I looked at the meal plan yesterday and the dish I was supposed to make, I was ready to call my husband and order in which is something that never happens.
And then it hit me: Instead of trying to make food my stepchildren would like to eat too, I should just make what I want to eat and serve them a sandwich and a salad (they are great salad eaters, by the way, and eat a warm lunch made by my mother in law so there really isn't any need for me to feed them warm dinner too).

And so I made this. And loved it. So did my husband.
(Another big accomplishment yesterday: Taking pictures without any natural light. It's something I have been struggling with ever since we switched to winter time and a sunset well before 5pm, which makes dinner photos nearly impossible. So yesterday, I set up my tripod, two pieces of canvas paper and fidgeted around with my camera settings until the light sources I have available in the kitchen (let's not get into that) didn't make my food look totally horrible. I still have a long way to go in taking good pictures, let alone styling my food but I am, I have to admit, rather pleased with myself.)

These are sweet potato galettes from the Ottolenghi cookbook, a book I don't pull out often enough even though his food is amazing.
(I served the galettes with this salad on the side and it turned out great too, although not as pretty and vibrant as its pictured.)

I did make a few changes to the original recipe, namely in quantities and size. I also swapped the hard goat cheese for parmesan because it was all I had on hand and wouldn't advise you. Of course, I wouldn't. Yotam Ottolenghi had a point in using a salty, rather strong cheese: to offset the sweetness of the puff pastry and the potatoes. Next time I would probably crumble some feta cheese or ricotta salata on top.

This could be a great starter, maybe made a little smaller. Or as a light lunch with a big green salad. Or for brunch. It was very easy to make and didn't take a lot of time, except for roasting the sweet potatoes. But that hardly counts as work.

Sweet Potato Galettes
loosely adapted from "Ottolenghi: The Cookbook"

I halved the recipe feeding two adults well.
I actually had enough sweet potatoes left over to make another, fifth, galette but decided against thawing another piece of puff pastry and instead broiled them with some cheese for my stepchildren to eat with their salad.
Below is the recipe the way I made it, halved

2 sweet potatoes, weighing about 500 grams
125 grams puff pastry
1 free range egg, lightly beaten
100 ml soured cream
100 grams hard goat's cheese (MM: I think feta cheese would be a great substitute but haven't tried it myself)
2 tbsp pumpkin seeds (MM: I didn't have any, but didn't miss them much.)
1 medium hot chili, finely chopped
1 tbsp olive oil
1 garlic clove, crushed
2 tsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
coarse sea salt and black pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 200°C/390°F. Bake the sweet potatoes in their skins for 34 to 45 minutes, until they soften but are still slightly undercooked in the center (check by inserting a knife). Leave until cool enough to handle, peel and slice into 3mm rounds.

While the sweet potatoes roast, take out your puff pastry, let it come to room temperature.
Four sheets of ready available puff pastry weighed in at exactly 125grams and although not the 7 by 14 cm rectangles the recipe calls for, they were the required 2mm thick, so I didn't do anything with them. I don't know how your puff pastry is sold, but if it doesn't come in sheets already, roll it out about 2mm thick on a lightly floured surface and cut into four rectangles.
Prick the dough all over with a fork, place it on a baking sheet and leave it to rest in the fridge for at least half an hour.

Remove the pastry from the fridge, brush with the lightly beaten egg and spread a layer of sour cream on the pastry, leaving a 5mm border. Arrange the potato slices on top, slightly overlapping with a clean border. Season with salt and pepper and crumble the cheese on top. Sprinkle with the chili and pumpkin seeds, if using.
Bake for 20 to 25 minutes (mine took 30) or until the pastry is cooked through. (Check underneath if it's golden brown.)

While the galettes bake, stir together the olive oil, garlic and parsley with a pinch of salt. As soon as they finished cooking, brush them with the mixture and serve warm or at room temperature.

Changing times: Parenting.

2011-11-23T07:12:00.000+01:00

When I was 7 years old I received a small keyboard for Christmas and soon thereafter my parents decided it would be good idea for me to learn the piano.
I still remember my piano teacher and the couple of times my mother took me to music school. I also have one very clear memory of my mother sitting next to me when I practiced at home.

After around 2 months we stopped going to the music school and my keyboard collected dust.
We stopped going there because I had made it quite clear that I didn't want to learn to play the piano. What I really wanted to learn was to play the violin but my mother wouldn't let me - too difficult, more practice, takes years to see results of all the hard work.
If she wasn't forcing me to practice the piano, how would she deal with me and the violin?
(My desire stemmed from a classmate who played the violin. All through elementary school I heard her play at school events and only when we entered junior school did the sounds coming out of her instrument weren't screeching. I wouldn't have survived long.)

Fast forward almost 20 years. My stepchildren have started taking piano lessons recently. It was my husbands and mine decision because a year ago when they didn't live with us, their mother had taken them to classes and for some reason stopped although the kids enjoyed it. We don't do much after school activities with them like Little League or sports (I think they're still a little young.) but they both love to dance and sing so an instrument was our choice.
Just two days ago my mother in law (we live in the same building) sent the electronic organ upstairs which had been sitting in their living room for years (one of my sisters in law used to play too). (The fact the she didn't ask and just did, needs further discussion I think.)
(The first two lessons took place in her house, respectively, and her move might have had something to do with my father in law and his space being invaded by piano playing children.)

Anyway, today after we finished with our homework (ha!) we went over to practice. My stepdaughter tried with her left hand, tried with her right hand, got bored. And then struggled to combine left and right hand.
(Her piano teacher said she needs to practice this little piece, only 16 notes long, around 12 times. I might have cringed when she said that.)
Ten minutes further in, she still couldn't play with the beat and gave up.
With a whiny voice, the one she often has when something doesn't work and she just drops it, she said to her father: I never wanted to learn the piano! I want to learn violin!
To my great horror and amusement at the same time, I heard myself saying: "Violins are much harder to play and you need to practice much more. Start with the piano and we'll see where that takes us."
I sounded like my mother.

Week fifty. One day at a time.

2011-11-21T19:42:00.001+01:00

I have two more Monday posts write after this one goes up.
Then my little project of trying to write on a regular basis will end and I will have to find new ways.

Throughout today, I thought of so many little detailed things to write about.
Nothing particularly mind blowing, just small tidbits of my every day life.
Of course now, that I sit down to write about these things, nothing comes to mind.
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.
Here is something:
I am very much surprised with the fact that I am falling in love with this "autumn" thing in Amman. I have written about my love for autumn over 40 weeks ago, back in March, when I thought Amman would lack those seasons I so cherish from home.
Of course, autumn here is not like autumn where I come from. It's still warmer, it didn't rain - at all - until 2 weeks ago.
But things feel different. The air smells better. Sunrise and sunset are beautiful scenes with amazing colors. (I am lucky, I see the sunrise every Sunday to Thursday morning when I wake my stepchildren for school. We wake up at 6am, with the sunrise.)
I miss the fallen leaves on the ground. Amman doesn't have a lot of trees that aren't evergreen.
Today, while browsing through my flickr stream I found this picture and sighed. As weird as it may be but those branches of ilex are winter for me. It's intertwined.
(In the same way as branches of cherry trees are part of Spring. Bare branches with barely an indicator of life in them, turn at home in a vase with water into blossoming signs of the new season that is upon us.)

...

There is something else:
I am happy to report that this household is back to recycling again!
The opportunity to recycle is still a rather young option in a country that treats plastic bags not as an endemic disease as they should be treated as. It's a country where people deliberately litter the streets while minding their own business and throw garbage out of their cars with no care in the world.
When I first heard about the opportunity to bring recycle items I jumped to it. Anything to reduce the amount of household trash. You'd be surprised how little trash is left if you take your plastics and papers out of that trash can. I don't know how the impact is of our little recycling station in the laundry room where we placed three containers: paper, plastic, aluminum cans, but it feels good. And it's better than nothing.
After dropping three shopping bags full of trash at the recycling center today (yes, different to Germany, here you go to the center, the center doesn't come collecting your stuff) I took my reusable shopping bags and went grocery shopping. I was very happy with myself until I looked around to see how little everyone around me cared.

...

In the same way as we recycle our milk bottles, my husband and I have started to collect our expired medicine. In Germany, it is the pharmacies duty to accept expired medicine and treat it as hazardous waste, therefore avoiding said medication from entering the water cycle.
Something like this doesn't exist here in Jordan. Pharmacies neither are liable nor do they take care of their own waste in appropriate ways. But that didn't stop my husband.
He went from the Ministry of Health (our first idea of where to turn to) to the Ministry of Environment where he was greeted with astonishment in a way that sounded like a scene out of a bad comedy.

...

I am unsure how much sense all this made above. I am terribly sleep deprived and although it's only Monday I am already looking forward to sleeping in and making up for this lack of sleep.

{Fifty down, two more to go.}

A five year olds birthday party recap.

2011-11-20T14:14:00.001+01:00

Okay, so this title is kind of misleading because I already told you about last weeks birthday party. Last week.
So basically this is not a recap but the "I have pictures to show you!" post.

First of all, the most elaborate, almost tears inducing part. The cake (following the link for the recipe, I realize that, by comparison, my cake doesn't stand up to the utter beauty that is the original. But, honestly, I am okay with that. It is what it is and my frosting skills are (still) rather limited).

This is what the cake looked like after being cut into and (mostly) devoured by a dozen five year olds. My stepchildren, of course, didn't like the cake.
I cannot really blame them. ~~I didn't really like the cake~~. I didn't like the frosting. And so did my stepchildren.

Let me break down to you what the frosting consisted of:
14 egg whites
2 3/4 cup (550grams) sugar
6 sticks (678grams) butter (and not a gram more)
some drops lemon extract, if using.

Add to that the cake has another 2 sticks of butter (226grams), 5 egg whites and 2 1/3 cups (426grams) of sugar and you might understand why they weren't super thrilled.
At the same time, my stepsons kindergarten friends loved it which makes me question their palate but that's probably a different story.

Making the frosting had me on the verge of tears on Monday at around noon (when the cake was supposed to be done). You are to make the frosting twice. Once as a filling and crumb coat (a thin layer of frosting that covers up crumbs which would show later on) and then again to decorate and stuff.
The first frosting went well and easy. I was surprised how it turned from soupy mess to fluffy. Alas, it was only enough to fill it but not crumb coat it.
The next morning I started the process again, followed all the steps to the "t" and it turned out disastrously. It wouldn't set but stay like soup.
I rushed to the market, bought more eggs and butter and started fresh.
Yet, it didn't look promising. Desperately called my husband who promised to bring me cream cheese for an alternative frosting.
By the time we hung up and I went back to the kitchen, my kitchen machine had worked out a miracle and I had bright and perfect frosting. It barely covered the surfaces but disguised it's hidden identity of being a rainbow (my stepson didn't know until we cut into it!).

If you compare my cake with the original, you'll see how little frosting there is on mine. Yet, for my family it was still too much.
Speaking of family:

It's not our best shot for sure but it's as good as it gets with two very lively children in not the best lightning setting (or very nice background).
(My stepdaughter is a vet, fyi. They had a ton of ridiculously cute costumes and each child could pick and choose to their likings. Whenever we pass the university she tells me she wants to go there too and become a ~~doctor~~ pediatrician someday.)

Week Forty Nine. One day at a time.

2011-11-14T19:57:00.001+01:00

We need to talk about birthdays.
Children's birthdays to be specific.
Children's birthdays in Arab land to make it even clearer.

My stepson turned five on Friday.
Today we celebrated his birthday at a place called j'imagine. It's a beautiful space. One of its kind in Jordan, I think.
A space for children and parents alike.
There is a crafts room, a toddler area, a water and sand play area, a pretend city with all fixings and, best of all, a small café corner with sofas for the parents.

I am not sure how you celebrate birthdays where you come from, but here in Jordan it is an unwritten law to invite your whole class. In the case of my stepson it meant inviting 23 children. And their mothers.
Because that's the thing about Arab land, and I have mentioned it before, birthdays are for children as much as they are for their mothers to socialize and engage.

There are expectations too.
About gifts for each child and food for the mothers.
It takes some planning and some effort of course, but it's not impossible.
(I questioned the whole thing just today morning to the ungodly hour of 6 A.M. while I washed my face and wondered if this is what brides must feel like, just worse. All those preparations, the running around to make sure everything turns out good. And then, 2 hours later, it's all over. All that is left is a piece of cake and gifts you never asked for.)

It would have been easier, in planning and baking, to know the number of children coming. But we didn't. In fact, up until a week ago, five days after handing out our invitations, two days before our "Please RSVP until" date, we didn't have a single conformation. It was made difficult even more due to the long holiday between handing out the invitations and the actual birthday.

(It made me cringe, wring my hands and expect the worst. What if nobody came?! I was ever more worried, given the fact that my stepson hadn't been invited to any of his classmates - what if these mothers don't "do" birthdays like this?)

We had a pirate themed birthday party with an epic rainbow cake. Like this one (but a little less perfect).
Yes, I made the cake myself (I cursed the decision along the way but pulled through).
I will show you what's left of it. Because I am quite proud of it, I must say.

I also made this cake and those teacakes for the mothers, tabouleh (the Arabic parsley salad; it was my very first time ever making it and then for Arabs. There was a lot of pressure.), rice crispy treats and chocolate chip cookies for the kids.
(There were nibbles for the mothers provided by j'imagine and sandwiches for the kids too!)

My husband stenciled 24 bags himself for favors for the kids to take home (a little book, a lollipop, some sweets) to match the pirate theme because we couldn't find bags we liked.

In the end, we had five bags left over. Which was annoying in a way.
Because not everyone RSVP'd but came respectively not everyone who RSVP'd came. And some mothers brought siblings which we asked not to do because of limited space. Given that not everyone came from his classmates, it was all evened out.

I felt a little out of place, but in a much less annoying way than when I am around the posh mothers at my stepdaughters school. For this reason alone I am glad that, for the moment, my stepson is still on another, less posh, more down to earth school.

There is a mountain of toys, still wrapped up on my living room floor and I am as curious as my stepson to see what they hold. Out of all these presents, only one person asked what my stepson wishes for (it's a fairy tale book by a German acquaintance of mine with a 3 year old boy my husband insisted on inviting, just to have somebody between all those mothers I would actually like. I am so glad for his suggestion.).
And that's how this house now houses two Transformers action figures we would have never bought which are so difficult to turn into cars I am not sure how much fun my stepson will have with them.

Now, if you will excuse me as I help myself to some leftover cake and rice crispy treats.

{Forty nine down, three more to go.}

Lavender and honey teacakes.

2011-11-11T22:18:00.000+01:00

I feel good about the fact that most days, I can open a cookbook, choose a recipe and make something from scratch for dinner because I have everything on hand thanks to a well stocked and ever growing pantry.
We always have a good supply of butter, milk and yogurt. Most days, you can find sour cream in our fridge. My jars of different kinds of flour and grains have reached a point where I shouldn't be allowed to buy any new items anymore until I've used up the ones already there.

I always make sure that we have honey in the house (extra, as you might say as my husband has at least three different types open at all times) that can be used in baking. And I spent a rather unhealthy amount of time in front of the shelf for spices in the supermarket.
There is a store for household items that I visit quite frequently to pick up yet another jar for my grain collection or to ponder which sized baking pan is missing in my repertoire. I have a big kitchen by all standards and I am reaching my capacity limits.

There is an upside to all of this hoarding, of course.
Last week I flipped through the ottolenghi cookbook in search for inspiration for my stepsons upcoming birthday party. I needed small things that easily double for a fair amount of adults and children.
I landed on a recipe for teacakes which I had bookmarked since I bought the book. That my mother in law had handed me silicone mini kugelhupf pans was just the icing on the cake.

To finally cut to the chase: I made some teacakes, on a whim, with silicone molds I never wanted to have. And they were amazing. Sweet and tender, a little crisp around the edges and very delicately spiced. The honey is clearly there while the lavender takes a backseat without drowning in the other flavors.

Despite my best efforts to fill the shelves, I needed to leave my kitchen for one thing though. Armed with scissors I walked into the garden and cut off a couple of lavender blossoms. That's the only thing I didn't have on hand.
Because I used fresh lavender I assumed the flavor would be stronger so I used a little less. But lavender is very delicate and next time I'd use more, even more than the recipe suggests.

The recipe calls for a simple glaze of lemon juice, honey and icing sugar which I didn't make simply because I liked the cakes plain dusted with only a little bit of icing sugar and because I just don't care about royal icing.

Lavender and Honey teacakes
adapted from Ottolenghi: The Cookbook

225 grams (2 sticks) butter, at room temperature
115 grams sugar
115 grams honey (MM: Lavender honey is recommended but plain honey will do.)
3 eggs
245 grams flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon (MM: I reduced this amount to 1/4 tsp because I didn't want the cinnamon to overpower the lavender.)
1/2 tsp chopped dried lavender
110 ml sour cream

Preheat the oven to 170°C (340°).
Brush small cooled bundt or kugelhupf tins with melted butter and return them to the fridge till you are ready to use them. (MM: A step you might want to follow when using regular tins, but because I used those silicone ones I omitted the extra butter.)

In a stand mixer, cream the butter and sugar with the honey until light and fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well until each addition has been fully incorporated.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon and lavender in another bowl. Gently fold the flour mixture into the creamed mixture in three additions, alternating with the sour cream.

Pipe or spoon the batter into the tins, filling them to about three quarters. Level out the batter and clean the edges of the tins if necessary. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, rotating halfway through the baking time, until a skewer inserted in the centre comes out clean.
Remove them from the oven and let cool in the tins for 10 minutes before turning them out on to a wire rack to cool completely.

According to the recipe: Makes six.
I made around 26 teacakes with means my pans are unbelievably small or there is a fault with the recipe.
Storage: These cakes are best eaten the day they were made. Although they keep for up to 3 days in an airtight container at room temperature, they become dense and lose their crisp edges.

Week Forty Eight. One day at a time.

2011-11-07T20:05:00.000+01:00

Happy Holidays!

I am a little early this year it seems, unless, of course, you know that I am referring to the Eid Al-Adha, the festival of Sacrifice, which is celebrated by Muslims around the world and is the highest holiday in the Islamic Calendar (it is also important part of the hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca to be performed by every Muslim at least once during his lifetime, fyi).

In practical terms it means we get 10days off. And by "we" I mean my husband and his children as every day is a free day for this housewife. Practically, you are also supposed to slaughter a lamb and give parts (or all) of it to the poor (or donate money to have somebody else do the whole thing for you), buy new clothes for the kids (plus gifts) and visit family.

As we celebrated the smaller Eid after Ramadan with my stepchildren in Istanbul, it was their mothers turn to take them for this week, which essentially means we are childless with an ample amount of time.

Perfect timing to catch a cold.

I have difficulty finding festivity in this whole holiday. It's not like Christmas with its one month of preparations and decorations. There aren't any. (Except for the two little lamb figurines on my mother in laws coffee table.)
And there are no preparations like in Ramadan, Eid Al-Adha is simply just there. All of a sudden. And if you think about it properly, Ramadan in itself is the actual celebration - 30 days long - while Eid Al-Fitr (the holiday following it) is just a couple of free days. In which you visit relatives and do more of the thing you have done too much of in Ramadan: Eat.

On Saturday (the day before the Eid began) the malls were crowded with people doing last minute shopping but that was about it.

I am a little disappointed but glad at the same time that we aren't having a lamb in the backyard waiting for the butcher.

In trying to overcome my disappointment I baked, honey spiced little madeleines. Which didn't have the effect I was hoping for. Because the spices gave me this fake Christmas feeling which, to add insult to injury, made me want to listen to Christmas music. And let me tell you, Christmas music at the beginning of November, is just wrong on so many levels.

{Forty Eight down, four more to go.}
(Wow, only four more and then the year is over. It will have taken more than 52 weeks as I skipped a few at the beginning and have to make up for them now, but I am still enjoying it. No matter how trivial my posts are.)

Week Forty Seven. One day at a time.

2011-10-31T19:51:00.000+01:00

I learned the past week how to wear a scarf in 25 different ways (technically, I think, there is a repetition but it really doesn't matter).

I learned that something don't get old and I could watch them again and again. Like this flashmob from March at the Central train station in Berlin.

I realized with a sense of shock that my stepson's birthday was less than 3 weeks away from us (10 days from now today exactly) and we hadn't planned anything yet.
I had wanted to do something fun for him (especially given that we won't be celebrating on his actual birthday). I wanted to do that because his birthday falls on the last day of Eid Al-Adha, the sacrifice holiday, which means no school for 1 week.
Which also means I need to get the invitations done before Thursday to have a chance in receiving RSVP's from his classmates.
Which brings me to the following: In Jordan, whole classes have to be invited (25 kids) (!) and if I were to open a business, it would be an indoor children's activity/play thing as they must make loads of money.
And we're doing a party anyway. It's going to be grand.
It's going to be all about pirates.

What I still haven't learned after all these years: To stop beating myself up and to just do something instead of delaying and delaying it. Like phone calls. I have been meaning to call the mother of one of my stepdaughters friends literally for weeks. And always only remembered at times it didn't fit. And when I finally did call today I hoped with every ring that she wouldn't pick up because, oh god, what am I going to tell her why I haven't called already?! She didn't pick up, she called back. My sentences, carefully composed in my head beforehand, didn't matter.
My timing is a little off with a 10 day holiday right ahead but better now then never.

{Forty Seven down, five more to go.}

Movie review: La source des femmes

2011-10-25T15:00:00.000+02:00

In Jordan you have to keep all your eyes and ears open if you want to attend cultural events. They are happening in the country or the city but sometimes they aren't easy to find.
I wish there was a directory, something to string everything together. Until then, our evenings might be last minute and not specifically planned.

To give you one example, let's talk about a movie we watched yesterday.
I follow a magazine on Facebook which mentioned on Sunday that there would be a movie screening presented by the French Embassy, the Institute français and the Royal Film Commission Jordan.
Without knowing what the movie was about, just that it was French (ha!) and subtitled in English, I was set to go.
I checked the website of the Royal Film Commission and didn't find a mention, my French is so limited I didn't understand what was written on the Embassy pages but the movie poster I found not, too. And lastly, the website of the Institute français doesn't seem online.
Lastly I simply called the venue to confirm the date and time (thank you very much, the Intercontinental Hotel (not my first guess for a venue) was able to provide both).

As it turned out: That movie was a French production but situated in Morocco and therefore all Arabic (my husband didn't understand anything though, Moroccan accent and all). What was even better: It premiered in France yesterday and was screened simultaneously in Algeria, Morocco, Tunisia and Jordan.

It's a powerful movie. Colorful and provocative.
It's called "La source des femmes" or, in the way it was subtitled yesterday, "The source".
Here watch the trailer (even if you don't speak much French!). I cannot find one with English subtitles but I do really really hope this movie makes it to the big screens where you live.

It's the fight of strong willed women for a little bit of equality in a remote village in Morocco. Doing most of the work around the house "as it is the tradition" while the man sit in the cafe drinking tea, waiting for the drought to end.
These women go on a love strike. It's brutal and violent and their demands are ridiculed, not even supported by the whole female community.
It's a movie about love, respect, traditions.

I can't say this very often, that I have watched a movie before you. And that I recommend it as much as possible. I know that most of my readers (you're welcome to say hi!) are in Europe and America so you might get a chance to watch it.
I think it's my favorite of the year.

(It is fitting yes, that I tell you about a movie on the day the Jordanian movie theaters close as I told you yesterday at the end of my post. It's probably just for a week or so. And if you think about it: cinemas in Jordan only show the big ass Hollywood productions (not even all the good ones) so it's not that much of a loss, but then again we're deprived of so much culture here that every thing counts.)

Week Forty Six. One day at a time.

2011-10-24T19:36:00.001+02:00

I could tell you of the 10 days my parents spent in the country. About the places they saw and the food I introduced them too. I could show you pictures my mother took.

But I am still processing their visit and have yet to go through the 1000+ pictures my mother took.
Let's just say: It was quite the experience. There was eye rolling from my side, again. I was sorry afterwards but couldn't help it in that moment.
I will tell you about that some other day.

Let's talk (ha! Let me talk to you) today about banalities.
Like the fact that I went to the hairdresser today and have therefore betrayed my hairdresser of eight years. Alas, I needed to go and waiting until Christmas to see him again just wasn't an option.
My husband, good soul that he is, had called a few salons for pricing and to make sure they spoke English. I am a girl with expectations and I need to be able to voice them.

The salon I went to was, how can I say that?!, peculiar as I was the only customer upon entering. I am not used to that. And in the same sense as I would do in empty restaurants at prime times, I wanted to turn around on my heel and leave.
I decided to be brave, clench my teeth and stay.

Since coming back home I am trying to decide what is more important, the process to get to the result or just the result.
Because, boy, it was quite the process.
As the only customer I was left waiting until the owner finished his phone call.
I wasn't offered anything to drink or the like until well after 45 minutes. Now, this might not be a big deal but I was still the only customer so it's just common curtesy I guess.
What I learned from watching my hairdresser in Berlin is that the first thing anybody is allowed to do when training to become a hairdresser is washing hair. What the guy did who washed my head should be more called manhandling while at the same time telling me how beautiful my country of origin is. I had cramps in my neck once he was done.
The manhandling didn't stop there but I don't want to bother you with further details.
Let's just say: I really didn't want to like the place.
Problem is: The color is perfect, the trimming is exactly as I communicated ("as little as possible") and the blow out was nicely done. Extra points for being the same price (but half the time, sorry S.!) as my Berlin hairdresser.

I really didn't feel comfortable while I was there. And I might have to communicate my discomfort a little more. Maybe they'd put a little more effort next time?!

End of banalities. Thanks for reading.
(My life needs more oomph!, just for the sake of these Monday posts. Like, how outrageous is it that Jordan's cinemas are closing tonight? You might think I am joking but I am dead serious. You can read the statement here (I called the cinemas and they confirmed it!).)

{Forty six down, six more to go.}