How to Eat a Falafel in Lebanon
Pull up at roadside stand. Be happy youโre with people who speak Arabic.
Pull up at roadside stand. Be happy youโre with people who speak Arabic.
It was a treat to spend a tasty afternoon in Tel Aviv with Natalie Levin, of the blog Oogio.net, who is a passionate baker. Upon meeting, one of the first things Natalie did was hand over a bag of homemade treats, which included a sack of these Tahini and Almond Cookies. Although I didnโt dive in right away (to be polite), after we visited theโฆ
Iโm not at my best in the morning. Actually, Iโm not at my best until at least 2pm. (Although actually, some might argue itโs even a little later.) To me, breakfast is meant to be enjoyed in monk-like solitude. Itโs a time where questions are prohibited and talking should be kept to an absolute minimum. Travel, of course, is fraught with all sorts of waysโฆ
Almost all of the people I spoke with said they rarely make their own hummus, simply because the store-bought stuff was as good โ if not better โ than what they could make at home. (I guess it helps to think of it like peanut butter, where the homemade is very good, but store-bought will suffice.) People have very strong opinions about hummus, like theyโฆ
When I left the restaurant Haj Kahil after lunch, I said to someone โ โThat was the best day of my life.โ When Erin, who was dining next to me, took a bite of the fried Halloumi cheese, her whole body softened, her eyes dimmed, and she looked as if she had been lulled into a trance. And when someone tried to talk to her,โฆ
Over the past few weeks, Iโve been trying to use up things I already have in the cupboard, plus eat seasonally, plus make things that are relatively easy to make โ and this salad fit the bill on all counts. It combines tahini with wild rice and used up some of the marvelous root vegetables that I canโt help buying at the market, even thoughโฆ
French people often drink apรฉritifs before dinner, but rarely cocktails. Americans who come to Paris are often perplexed when the waiter asks them: โVous desirez un apรฉritif?โ and a few minutes later, theyโre handed a glass of red Martini & Rossi instead of the straight-up, dry martini that they thought they had ordered. And another heads-up: tourists are equally perplexed when the check arrives andโฆ
I began my cooking career at a vegetarian restaurant in Ithaca, New York. Although youโve probably heard of the other vegetarian restaurant in town, I worked up the hill at the Cabbagetown Cafรฉ. While we werenโt as famous, the food was really good. Farmers would come in lugging crates of dirty root vegetables, crispy radishes, and slender green pea pods, and weโd make what weโฆ