Wooleh - Bouleh

Last Friday morning it was very hot. In that sort of weather where it's too hot to contemplate eating steaming hot foods, the perfect meal solution is salatat tabouleh. The only drawback to making tabouleh is the amount of time and physical labor it requires. Chop-chop! I bought and washed seven large bunches of parsley, used six tomatoes, 8 cucumbers, 2 large purple onions, half a bunch of mint, five green onions, half a head of lettuce--all chopped to Lilliputian scale--seven lemons, olive oil, and a nice large bowl of bulgur wheat.

We made a big mess. I had two child helpers and one adult helper; when we got to the onions we were all crying big tears. My oldest daughter went and put on goggles, but to protect her innocent onion-induced crying face, I promised her I would not put her picture here. I might put it someplace else, however.
Parsley is a key to heart health. It makes stomach cramps go away. It tastes great and freshens the breath, and if you have any trouble in the pipe areas, it'll clean you out just fine. The only trouble with eating tabouleh in this part of the world is that the parsley must be washed very, very well. I have gotten food poisoning more than once in this fair city from eating unclean tabouleh, or from parsley that was washed with the best of intentions, but was washed with the worst water. Kind of like that Tang you don't want to drink in someone else's home, because you are not sure if they made it with tap water or not.

Our Friday Tabouleh: two-and-a-half hours to prepare, 12.5 minutes to devour entirely.

The Java and the Omega

I love salmon.
I love it grilled, love it in sushi, and even love it out of a can. (salmon croquettes, anyone?)

I love coffee.
I love it brewed, percolated, boiled, topped with froth or frothless, hot and smooth and bold and rich.

Perhaps my love for both salmon and coffee are proofs as to why I am such a clear-headed deep thinker.

Ha!

Food! Tagged

I've been tagged by this witty blogger who makes her home in Oman. Oman is the Middle Eastern country I want to see most, after Morocco. One day I'll make it to that Muscat Festival inshaAllah and eat fish freshly caught and prepared before my eyes. And I'll buy my husband one of those pretty hats.

This one is about what's in the fridge. Here are the specifics:

• Go to your refrigerator, and describe the contents in the style of a movie tag line.


• Locate the least popular condiment in and tell us what it is.


• Name the most embarrassing thing in your fridge/freezer and justify its presence there.


• Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you.

My fridge:

This Gibson masterpiece provides you with everything you need to keep you satisfied: bold flavor, sweetness with merit, and homemade comfort with an Eastern flair. There is homemade macaroni and cheese, a pot of freshly rolled grape leaves (thanks, sis-in-law!), some yogurt from Germany, cherry tomatoes, and an open bottle of Marca PIÑA soy sauce that dumped over and coated my cellophane-wrapped half of a cantaloupe with brown saltiness which has now dried to a sludge-like consistency. Cleaning out the fridge is like #5 on my list of things to do today.

The most embarrassing thing in my freezer is a bunch of bananas that were going bad, so I chunked them in the freezer, hoping to preserve the banana goodness they still possessed. Then my blender broke, thus postponing any smoothie-making, indefinitely. I think the rock-hard bananas have fallen out of the freezer and landed on my feet several times this week, because they are in the way of the ice trays. I justify their presence because I just hate to throw away fruit.

The least popular condiment would have to be the 1/3-used Parade brand barbecue sauce. It has no taste. I think it might be time to just throw it out.

Umm Zaid, Dixie, either of you want this one? You could include pictures. Maybe you have some Mobile Phone juice in your fridge? Habichuelas? Bienenstich?

Resistance!

My daughter's best friend has transferred to another school for next year's term. Such is the life in this city of transferring students, where folks are always looking for a better way, a better curriculum, a better chance for their kids to have najah, or success. We hate to see her go.

Today was a tearful day for my daughter. They had a small party--the last of its kind before the tedium of exam taking begins. I made her some peanut butter-oatmeal-chocolate cookies. I did not eat a single one. That took some serious willpower. I just kept drinking water and I snacked on half of a matzo from Palestine, and a little Arabic cheese. Yummy yum. There's no snack tastier than a cardboardish wafer, I say. The girls, however, enjoyed the cookies today.

Anyway, I was thinking that posting this recipe is a good idea, for those moms out there who have to make something last-minute, and who do not want to turn on the oven. Did I mention these cookies are also no-bake? Did I mention I'm dieting (again) ?

NO-BAKE Peanut Butter-Oatmeal Cookies
2 cups sugar
1/4 cup cocoa
1/4 cup butter
1/2 cup milk
2 1/2 cups regular oats, uncooked
3/4 cup crunchy peanut butter (or smooth)
2 tsp. vanilla extract

Combine sugar, cocoa, butter, and milk in a heavy saucepan; stir well. Cook over medium heat until mixture comes to a boil; boil 1 minute. Stir in oats, peanut butter, and vanilla. Drop dough by heaping teaspoonfuls onto lightly greased wax paper; cool thoroughly. Yield: around 4 dozen.

Snack--Back to my Roots

photo: Southern Living Magazine

I grew up eating something I believed to be called "paminna cheese." We ate it on sandwiches, celery sticks, crackers. Most of the time we bought the ready-made kind in the deli section of the grocery store. (now that I think about that stuff...ick!) When I got braces as an adult and was in great pain, unable to bite into anything, this stuff sustained me.

My grandmother used to make a batch of it at Thanksgiving, where we'd see it displayed atop the celery sticks. This was probably the one time a year I could devour several stalks of celery in a single day.

I honestly did not know that its true name was pimiento cheese until I was much older and had started studying the Spanish language. You know, pimiento means "pepper," which made it quite clear that the red stuff in a tiny jar my mother used to buy and put into the mixture was actually the pimiento part of the spread. If you are not from the southern part of the United States, you have not yet experienced the way southerners can take a simple looking word and turn it into something completely different. Case in point: pimiento=paminna. Say them aloud. Are they remotely related? You decide.

I made a big bowl of it on Friday and put it with our Friday breakfast. If you've never attended an Arabic-style breakfast, the utensils we use are loaves of bread. The only spoons I ever put on the breakfast table are the ones for stirring tea. We are scoopers and dippers.

Anyway, my kids went nuts for it. My husband likes it, too. If you've never made it, give it a try. It's a true comfort food and makes a great summertime lunch; it's also a big hit at those potluck luncheons when you do not have lots of time to prepare anything.

Pimiento-Cheese Spread

• 1 nice-sized block (8 oz.) of sharp cheddar cheese--the sharper, the better--finely shredded


• 3 tbsp. mayonnaise, Hellmann's if it is available, but others may substitute (adjust mayo according to your liking)


• 2 to 8 dashes of Tabasco or other hot sauce, depending on your preference


• 1 beautiful sweet red pepper, diced--I do this the day before, sprinkle a little salt on the diced-up pepper and cover to allow the lovely sweetness to come out


• dash or two of black pepper

Mix until the mayonnaise no longer looks like mayo; the final product will be bright orange with red specks all throughout, and it is a thickish consistency. For the perfect sandwich, choose a thick bread you can toast lightly. Sahtain wa a'afiyah.

Tuesday's Ruby

I found this interesting blog on one of my favorite topics: food. This site, however, does not post recipes for heart-healthy pasta dishes or homemade jams. Instead, it discusses how we Americans are eating ourselves right into our graves, and highlights various "favorites" at restaurants near you.

We are poisoning ourselves.

I spoke to a woman today at baseball practice who is convinced that by passing on the donuts, she is adding years to her life. I cannot disagree with her.

And it really grossed me out that eating a plate of these is equivalent to eating 14 Krispy Kremes.

We've been duped. Or have we just been plain dumb?

Yum, Yum

I can rest easily now, knowing that Safeway carries camel meat. The next time I BBQ, watch out, kiddies! We're having camel burgers.

Viva Helado

My husband used to be a dishwasher at a Mexican restaurant in a small Alabama town. Later, he was promoted to Chip Master. (he fried the chips and kept them in a warmer) While working at el restaurante, Señor Abu Farouq learned all about pico de gallo and salsa picante and my favorite, fried ice cream. I have not thought about fried ice cream in years, until I read this post on Outlines' blog.

I am one of those wives who can get away with making chicken quesadillas or open-faced taco salad for dinner, and serve it to her very Palestinian husband, who will look up at her with a grin. He loves Tex-Mex, Mexican, and what I now have to call "Aramex," (ha!) which are the variations of our favorites, but with little Arabic twists. (zabadi cream instead of sour cream, foul muddamas on the taco salad instead of refried beans, etc.)

Anyway, here's to multicultural food exposure at a young age. And here's a recipe for fried ice cream. Sahtain wa A'afiyah.

Fried Ice Cream Recipe courtesy Emeril Lagasse, 2001 Show: Emeril Live Episode: Ice Cream Rules
1 quart vanilla ice cream 1 cup crushed frosted cornflakes 1 cup sweetened coconut flakes, or 1 cup chopped walnuts, or 1 cup cookie crumbs 2 large eggs 2 tablespoons sugar Vegetable oil, for frying Hot chocolate sauce, optional Whipped cream, optional With an ice cream scoop, form 4 large balls of ice cream. Place on a waxed paper lined sheet and cover with plastic wrap. Freeze for at least 2 hours. In a bowl, combine the cornflake crumbs with either the coconut, walnuts or cookie crumbs (or any combination). Spread the mixture in a shallow dish. Dip the ice cream balls in the crumb mixture and freeze for 30 minutes. In a bowl, beat the eggs and sugar. Dip the coated ice cream balls into the eggs, then roll in the crumb mixture, coating completely. Freeze for 1 hour. (If necessary, or for a thicker crust, roll again in eggs and crumbs until the balls are completely coated.) Heat the oil in a large pot or fryer to 400 degrees F. One at a time, lower the balls into the oil and fry until golden brown, about 30 seconds to 1 minute. Remove from the oil and place in a dessert bowl. Drizzle with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, as desired. Repeat with the remaining ice cream.

Safeway Chronicles

My younger two children would not recognize a cylinder of refrigerated dough if it hit them in the heads. They do not understand terminology such as "slice and bake" cookies or "crescent rolls" fresh out of the oven. They have never eaten a za'atar pie made from finely rolled out Grands biscuit dough. They never ate an 1856 old-fashioned biscuit on Saturday morning with honey and butter. They have, in a word, been deprived. But ignorance is bliss, isn't it?

Nope, not really. Yesterday my family ran into the Safeway to pick up a few (read: at least 70 JD will be smacked down) items. We rounded the meat section and pushed our way to the fish section where a once thriving sushi kiosk sat empty and unattended. We looked up and saw that the Omani shrimp were on sale for 9.90 per kilo, or around $14, and for the sake of simplicity, about $7 per pound. This was a promo worth buying into, and needed no words. My husband and I exchanged looks, maybe a wink or two, and I flashed him my pearly whites. It was a done deal; there will be shrimp tonight! (Coincidentally, the littlest two have never tried shrimp, either.)

While he waited for the guy to clean the 'prawns', I ventured into the dairy section with my oldest daughter. We gawked at all sorts of products we would never buy but enjoy looking at nonetheless. They had some whipping cream from Greece we had never seen before and a few other item worth pricing. Then, we saw him. The Dude. The Dude had his arms spread out, as if to give us a big doughy hug. There were brownies, cookies, and biscuits on display, severely overpriced, of course, but just the sight of them brought back a flood of memories. I believe that every single American, unless he is on a gluten-free diet, has eaten a Pillsbury refrigerated dough product. Our teenage hood partially revolved around those melancholy Friday nights coupled with a roll of cookie dough, to be spooned out and eaten raw. There was medicine in that dough, I tell you. The Dude could work some magic.

I am pleased to make it known that I resisted, and we came home with the *best* treat of all: the shrimp. Let the little ones remain blissfully unaware of the Dude's power. We couldn't allow Pillsbury dough, just like we cannot allow the shrimp purchase, to become a habit.

::big sigh::

Warning: Butter is Delicious

Cranberry-Orange-Pecan Coffee Cake

Ingredients:

4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter at room temperature
1/2 cup sugar
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup fresh or store bought orange juice (makes more sense to use fresh, since you need orange zest)
1 to 1 1/2 tsp. freshly grated orange zest
1 1/2 cups fresh, frozen, or dried cranberries, whatever you have
1/3 cup (11/2 ounces) chopped pecans (walnuts may be substituted)

Streusel Topping:
1/4 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into bits
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup pecan halves

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350F. Butter and flour a 9-inch pie pan or a small square Pyrex. (I prefer square)

In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugar with an electric mixer until light and fluffy. Add the egg and vanilla and beat well. In a medium bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, and salt. Stir to blend. Add to the creamed mixture alternately with the orange juice concentrate in 2 increments, beating just until smooth. Stir in the cranberries and nuts. Spread evenly in the prepared pan.

To make the streusel topping: In a small bowl or a food processor, combine the flour, butter, and sugar. Cut in the butter with your fingers or process until crumbly. Sprinkle evenly over the batter and stud with the nut halves.

Bake for 40 to 45 minutes, or until the cake is golden brown and a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean. Let cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then unmold right side up on a wire rack. Serve warm or at room temperature, cut into wedges.

Makes one 9-inch cake; serves 8. (actually mine, in a square pan, served 9)

Have a Slice and Look Real Pretty Eating It

image taken from this wonderful food blog



I just popped my cranberry-orange-pecan-streusel coffee cake into the oven and poured myself a cup of coffee. I used nearly the last of the coveted "nuts of gold," or pecans, that I brought with me from my trip home this summer. I love pecans any time of year. It's a pity they are so overpriced here.

My cranberries I brought with me in my luggage as well. They are dried and pack a lovely tangy punch when chewed. Cranberries aren't just for keeping the kidneys healthy, folks.

When I left the kitchen with my coffee in hand, I found the kids all snuggled up on a cushion in the den, watching one of their favorite channels, Fatafeat, and my personal favorite chef, Nigella Lawson.

Dang, she's pretty. She's the only person I know who can dirty up her kitchen yet remain picture perfect. My son wants to try everything she makes, even pea puree and pasta with crab. Is it because she makes the food look so enticing, or because she is so dang pretty? I promise this is the last time I use dang three times in one post. But I really like the way they show her raiding the fridge for nighttime leftover indulgences. It's not only sloppy Americans who get the munchies at 11 p.m.; beautiful Britons do, too.

Time to jump on the treadmill, wait for the coffee cake to be done, then we're off to brunch with some friends. At least I will have pre-worked off the calories I intend to consume.

Steam THIS

"Meanwhile, back in the Broccoli Forest..."

Thanks, Baraka, for pointing out these foodscapes. Amazing!

Flim Flam

Flim Flam is what I refer to as what's going on.

This week I've had so many ideas to write about but as I've sat down to do so, I've experienced a bit o' writer's block. Maybe there is too much swimming around in my head and I need to do something like get an old fashioned notebook and ink pen and just jot a bit. I used to jot, a lot, back in the day.

The end of this week was packed full of activity. Thursday I had a few ladies over for lunch; my oven quit working on me and we ended up with some cold soup and a brownie catastrophe, but we had a lovely visit.

On Friday the in-laws came for lunch. My husband and I were the epitome of tag-team cooking and I am still grinning about the synchronicity with which we chopped, boiled, sauteed, rolled, and broiled. The menu:

• 4 kilos of lamb cooked in yogurt with rice and pine nuts (this is called lebaniyyah or shakriyyah)
• homemade mac and cheese
• rolled up m'sakhan fingers (this would be shredded chicken, tons of onions and sumac, and pine nuts, rolled up in flat Arabic shrak bread)
• a big salad
• kanafeh fingers and warbat, from Arafat, the original

My brother-in-law who is still a bachelor (hopefully not for long) washed all the dishes after lunch, bless him. The Colombian connection was part of the group, and they were able to eat, relax, and feel warm in our home (we fired up all of the heaters in their honor). Afterwards I sat with them and picked their brains a bit about what they know regarding Islam. Living in Colombia, where they told me 'you are either Catholic or Christian,' maintaining a Muslim identity is difficult. I did not feel like debating with them on the Catholic/Christian issue, but was happy to know that they at least identify themselves as Muslims. We laughed and joked as I stumbled through my dusty Spanish, but as the evening progressed, I was able to converse fluidly without reverting to Arabic.

Most of the hip slang I used to know was from Mexico back in the early 1990s; some of it I tried to use with the twins and they just laughed and laughed. I suppose this was akin to someone using late 70s disco lingo with Queen Latifah or something. I'm taking a stab in the dark here, people. My husband's nephew did tell me after I said one particular phrase, "Yes, we used to say that, but ya se fue, or it's already out of style." My daughter, thinking she recognized something in their language, perked up and exclaimed, "I didn't know they had a Safeway!"

I'm off to buy some fabric with a friend now; I'll write about Saturday's events, inshaAllah, when I get back.

Snapshots: Passing time waiting in the car

This is nothing exciting--just some shots I've taken over the past two weeks with my camera phone while waiting in the car, bored.

I took this shot while driving, but not driving; I was in some kind of traffic jam on University Street heading towards the Duwar Sweileh. I detest driving there because there are so many pedestrians who do not consider their lives as valuable and will jump in front of a moving vehicle without hesitation. Luckily that day we were just sitting, not moving, while some member of our police force did something or another up ahead. Who knows what causes jams in Amman. Could it be...too many cars, too little road? Little or no infrastructure? No city planning? Anyhow, I thought the hills above Sweileh were looking lovely but my camera phone did not do them justice.
Here is our favorite Friday dessert pick-up spot: The Tamriya Joint. Apparently tamriya is a traditional Palestinian sweet but has somehow become impossible to find in Palestine, or so says my sister-in-law. The Arafat family is known for its sweet making prowess. I love tamriya because it is not syrupy sweet and it is made fresh while you wait. It is a thin pastry filled with semolina and some flavor I cannot identify, then quickly deep fried and sprinkled with sugar water and sometimes powdered sugar. Yummy.
Here is the veggie market between the 7th and 6th Circles. I have always admired this veggie market because aesthetically it cannot be topped. I was sitting there waiting on my husband to bring the overpriced fast food (I know, I know) we had just ordered and I started to really think about chestnuts and how tasty they might be, you know, roasted on an open fire. I knew we did not have access to an open fire but we were on our way to Teta's house, who has a sobah (kerosene heater) you can throw just about anything on top of.
Here is a closer view of the chestnuts. I hopped out of the car and bought a half kilo of them and was charged more than double what I pay near my house. Beauty isn't cheap, apparently.

And so I celebrate...

...with sandwich.

There is nothing like a good sandwich, especially when the one eating it is chipper and celebratory. I just made myself a turkey, mustard, and avocado on thin Lebanese pita, rolled up, with a side of tomato-flavored Turkish Doritos. I find the Turkish Doritos to be so delicious; I do not think I could eat the cheesy powdered variety again. The avocados came from Palestine. My husband's sister brought me several kilos of them when she visited for Eid, and I've made them last. I love avocados, and for those of you who claim they are 'fattening,' let me assure you that the fat in them is the good kind--the kind we need for brain development and such, like the fat in olive oil or coconut oil or breast milk. Avocados rock, yes indeed they do. And so did my sandwich.

I'd like to take a moment to thank the smiling young faces of the government workers who helped me to make my license transition today speedy and easy. Yesterday I headed out to the Royal Automobile Club, only to find out they no longer do the American to Jordanian license switcheroo. I then went to Jubayha, to the Department of Statistics, just to make sure I didn't actually have to go there and do anything. They told me they no longer handled the procedure. So bright and early this morning my husband and daughter and I headed to Markah, where the largest Department of Public Safety is located, and got the job done in less than two hours. It was painless; people were not allowed to smoke inside, and the workers actually greeted us and smiled. I also met a lovely young American mother named Carol, whose husband works for the Jordanian Basketball Federation, and who told me about Little League Basketball for children.

All in all, it was a positive, beautiful morning. I did not have to take a driving test nor do I have to renew this license until 2012. I will no longer feel the need to dodge policemen when I see them on the streets. I am legal, through and through.

Have a great day, and make yourself a delicious sandwich.

Why My Stomach Turned on Me

I used to be a street food aficionada. Wherever I traveled, I had to indulge in the wares of the street. It made me feel like I was really experiencing the place, be it Mexico City or Annapolis, Maryland. Street food. Mmmmmm, good. (I am remembering an old post, this one, by Umm Zaid, about grease truck sammies. Oh, yum.)

Tacos de lengua in Cuernavaca? Sign me up! Paella in Madrid? Claro que sí. A slice of big sloppy New York-style pizza on Venice Beach boardwalk? You betcha. After I became a Muslim, of course, I had to be more selective about my choices. Not knowing if meat was halal, or even what kind of meat was being used; things like using the same knife to cut a pepperoni pizza as a cheese pizza, oils, lard, etc.; basically, experiencing the street foods in the US and abroad became a little more difficult and honestly quite frustrating.

Fast forward to Jordan, present day, where it's all halal, but...

Do I really want to buy a big bowl of super-sized fava beans from the street vendor, or corn on the cob that has been cooked in water of unknown origins? Is the guy making my shawerma sandwich washing his hands after he wipes the sweat from his brow? Furthermore, has my chicken been bleached in something before being cooked, for that extra hint of cleanliness? Can I trust that the parsley in the tabouli I'm about to put in my mouth has been washed? The sushi at Safeway: just how old is that salmon and where did it swim and live? Ick.

I never wanted to become a food conspiracy theorist, but I have either seen the inside of the ER or have counted the tiles on my bathroom floor one time too many to keep taking the risk.

Bon Apetit

Read here: The 10 Best Foods you Aren't Eating

I know I can get all of these items here in Jordan, easily, with the exception of:

1. Purslane--have I seen this weed in my garden? Has anyone every tried it? Jordan has lots of "weeds" that I enjoy eating, mainly khobezeh, whose English equivalent I do not know, and hawerneh, also whose English equivalent is a mystery to me. All I know is that they taste really good.

2. Goji berries--I've never heard of them. But I'm pretty sure that Whole Foods in Birmingham would carry them. Ah, Whole Foods. I could spend my entire pay check in that supermarket, if I had a pay check.

Sahtain wa A'afiya, or, "To your health twice, and good health!" (Sounds kind of redundant in English, now doesn't it?)

Now get to munching on some cabbage!

Ode...

...to my Sweet-Eating buddy, and she knows why.


If your KitchenAid were to stop a-mixing,
would you?
Hark! I heard the clanking of a whisk
in a bowl
hard at work, aching wrists, stirring, tripling the time it takes (mechanically) to get that sweet, light,
cream to perfection.

A dollup, a drizzle, a chocolate confection, a tooth-aching sugarey cake;

A peanut butter infused fudgey-real-coconut-not-petrified-mound of morsels
melted, scrumptious, enough to make Willy Wonka blush.

(imported? 'oh yes,' nods our local gastronomic expert)
as she seeks a golden crunchiness with the perfect crust. Melt-in-our-mouths.
May I have another

cup of coffee?

Indeed, I may.

Where exists a will, multiple ways lie hiding,
waiting to be discovered (eaten).

Sem-Sem Chicken

I am posting this recipe because several folks have asked for it. I must, however, put this disclaimer alongside the recipe: I am not a slave to measurements. Sometimes I put more of certain ingredients than other times. I’m a mood chef. Please keep that in mind when trying to prepare this dish.

Sesame Chicken (feeds family of 6 plus some leftovers)
To be served with steamed rice or Chinese noodles, or both!

Ingredients you will need:
4 or 5 boneless chicken breasts, cut into 1 ½ inch pieces
(If I am having a large gathering or luncheon, I will use 12 chicken breasts)
All-purpose flour
1 egg
Corn starch
Baking powder
Soy Sauce
Sesame Oil
Water
Ground ginger (optional)
Chicken stock or chicken broth cubes
2 or 3 garlic cloves, smashed with a mortar and pestal
Hot red pepper (can be from a jar or if you can get a hold of some Chinese red peppers, then by all means do so)
White Vinegar
Sugar (white or brown)
Oil for frying
Sesame seeds (untoasted)

Step by step:
1. Take your cut chicken pieces and place them in a large mixing bowl. Prepare to get your fingers messy. On top of the chicken, add ¾ to 1 cup of flour, 3 tablespoons of corn starch, 2 tsp. of baking powder, 3 to 4 tbsp of soy sauce, a few sprinkles of ground ginger, 6 to 8 drops of sesame oil, 1 egg, and ½ cup of water. Begin mixing the mixture with your hands, making sure the wet and dry ingredients blend together to make a thick paste-like coating. Add more water and/or more flour if necessary. Your goal here is to coat the pieces so that when they are fried, the batter around them will be uniform. Once the consistency is right (like thick pancake batter), place chicken and batter in the fridge and let it sit for at least 20 minutes. Go wash your hands. While the chicken is marinating, prepare your sauce.
2. In a medium sauce pot, bring to a boil one cup of chicken broth. (this can be something you already have on hand, or use a maggi cube, whatever) When the broth is boiling, add to it 1 cup of sugar and ¼ to ½ of a cup of white vinegar. Mix well. Turn heat to low, and allow the sugar and vinegar to jive nicely in the broth. Then add a few drops of sesame oil, the smashed garlic cloves and (depending on how hot you like it) add 1 to 3 tsp. of hot pepper sauce or hot chili peppers or dried hot red peppers. Do not try to substitute w/ cayenne. Mix well and allow mixture to simmer on low for 5 minutes. Then with a ladle, take a ladle-full of the sauce out and place it in a small bowl. Whisk into this sauce about 3 tbsp. of cornstarch, until dissolved. Place whisked mixture back into the sauce. Stir well. Allow to simmer for 10 minutes or until thick (honey-like). Remove from heat. The house is starting to smell good now.
3. In a large frying pan, heat oil (about 1-inch thick). Peanut oil is the best for frying because of its high smoke-point, but I’d have to sell my grandma to afford peanut oil in Jordan. Use whatever you like. Once the oil is HOT, begin dropping each piece of chicken INDIVIDUALLY into the oil. They will quickly puff up and begin to brown. Remove chicken from the oil using a slotted (metal) spoon once it is thoroughly browned and done. It will have a nice tan color…not too brown but not pale either. (see picture) Allow chicken to drain on paper towels until all chicken has been cooked.
Place the chicken in a beautiful serving dish and pour the sauce on top; mix. Sprinkle chicken with lots of sesame seeds. Serve and enjoy.

Java Jive

In my cabinet are two pounds of coffee that remain from the stash I loaded into my suitcase this summer before I left America. I brought Maxwell House, Folger's, Choc-Full-O-Nuts, Community Coffee, Seattle's Best, and a few others. I wanted to have a selection when I came back. Anyone coming this way to visit can always bring me java. It will be most appreciated.

During the summer when I was in the U.S., my household helper text-messaged my husband that she had dropped and broken the carafe to our coffee maker. Many times over the two years she worked with (against) us, I would observe her washing the pot with reckless abandon, often smashing it against the sink or dumping it into the dish drainer on top of other breakables. Gasp! I told her, nicely, "From now on I will wash this. Just leave it to me." (LEAVE THE COFFEE TO THE EXPERTS and GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN is what I really wanted to say. Suppress that anger, girl.)

I guess going out of the country gave her free reign over my precious carafe once again. It was one of those special 12-cup kind that came with a Gevalia coffee maker: completely irreplaceable in Jordan. I tried to buy a new one in the US, but Gevalia said I would have to re-enroll in their coffee program, which I was completely willing to do. But, they do not ship overseas.

So I settled on buying instead a 9-cup stove top Corelle percolator from the 1970s, off of eBay. It can't be smashed and broken, unless you are Godzilla, and it percolates the coffee, so you can adjust how strong you want it. It also makes the house smell wonderful, and keeps the coffee piping hot for a long time--much hotter than a traditional drip coffee machine. You can have campfire coffee goodness every morning with this handy percolator. Thanks, Umm Rami, for introducing it to me.

Am I serious about my coffee? Oh, yes.

So I thought I'd post a few coffee commercials. One of them is so completely sexist it isn't even funny (oh, but it is funny). The other one is a jingle I will most likely preserve in my subconscious until my dying days. The influence of commercials on us is astounding.

Going to pour cup # 2. Sahtain wa a'afiyah.