A smattering of houses ...

Warning: Dear readers ...no photos! Take a breath! Calm down... in ...out ...phfeuuu...okay... It will all be fine. I know you can do it. It will be fun. Warm up your vivid imaginations, off we go...

It was sunny and windswept that morning on the mountains of Mediterranean Turkey. We were seaside and on our way somewhere very special. The scent of the sea drew me in and made me a little dizzy with anticipation. I closed my eyes and relished the warm sunshine on my skin and the thick mineralized wind that tousled my hair. It wasn't soft wind. I inhaled the salty air, tasting the ocean and let out a sigh of content. I was on my way dear readers, to a little place, nestled in an orange grove at the foot of Mount Olympos.  

For the better half of one sunny morning, we had been winding our way up coastal mountain roads. These particular coastal mountain roads were very special coastal mountain roads (I know, I just love to say it). Specifically etched into these majestic rocks to enchant passers with a magnificent view of ethereal mountains plunging into an endless ocean, these particular roads were taking us to a restaurant (of course), in an orange grove (naturally), nestled on a beach (where else), at the foot of Mount Olympos (mais oui).

It was wild out there on those mountain roads dear readers. Seascapes turned into forests while you blinked. Groves of trees engulfed roads that moments ago had been boasting nothing but skyline. The air changed. It was a long way to our little restaurant. We drove deeper in and the roads became evermore narrow and I felt a little anxious. We were close now and a small wave of excitement peeked through as I took it all in. I drank in the the sun glinting through the dense sea jungle that opened up to a tiny road on top of the mountain we had just sumitted and prepared myself for the windy descent. The tiny, curvy, bumpy road down seemed endless. The jungle seemed to get deeper and darker, at some points completely blocking out the sun, while the sound of unseen waves crashing in the background made its way through the flora. Time dragged on on those windy roads and just as I was starting to doubt any village or grove (never mind restaurant) actually existed there and was dooming myself to starve in this forest by the sea, it disappeared. Just like that, the rocky bumpy road, engulfed by dense forest, became a tiny sand road, formerly engulfed by forest. At the foot of Mount Olympos dear readers, in the middle of this forest by the sea, lied a teeny, tiny, clearing. We had reached Cirali. A smattering of houses, on a sandy road and an orange grove. 

Now, given our main objective (eat, plunge into ocean, drink, eat, ocean...you get the drift) we settled into said fragrant, shadowy grove and started the walk through the pebbled path, to the pebbled beach, on a pebbled cove. Unbeknownst to us dear readers, this particular pebbled cove was taking us to an old, magic place. A place that speaks of god's of fire and blacksmiths, knowing monsters and eternal flames with ancient wise fires of Chimaera, burning since the beginning of time. Of kings and battles and pixies and  age-old ways. Quite by accident, in search of food (what else) we had stumbled upon a city, situated in a wild forest off said pebble beach that is a few thousand years old. We had found Olympos. I have a secret dear readers. For a split second, we actually considered going back because for sure, there was no Orange restaurant in said ancient ruin. Shameful (I never would have forgiven myself), I know. But we didn't go back. Instead we walked, crossed bridges, admired, sat in silence, pondered the first ships that had sailed and conquered, stood in awe in front of the magnificent architecture, walked some more, accumulated blisters,  and then it was time. Time, to waddle our way back through all the pebbles. Time...to eat. It was dusk then and the age old sun set behind the horizon as it has since its flames started burning. The sky held its hands out and waves were softly rolling onto the shore, a cool, salty breeze blowing in off the water. We sat, tired, salty and sunburnished with wraps on at our table in the sand, starving and content. We drank Raki and ate the mezzes they brought us, one better than the next, and silently enjoyed the simple beauty of beans just picked and braised with sweet tomatoes and onions. Of cabbage leaves filled with ground lamb, so soft, fatty and succulent, of thick yogurt, oven fired bread and sheep's milk cheese and of the best simple salad around. We couldn't get enough and ate until we were too sleepy (and snookered) to go on.

The evening ends now dear readers. Night has fallen and the sky is black. We sleep with windows open, breathing in the ocean air and dream of tomorrow's breakfast. 

**The breakfast's we ate in Turkey were not so much recipe based as they were a gathering of the most beautiful ingredients. Allow me now to share with you what we had the pleasure of eating.**

You made it! I'm so proud of you. How does it feel?!

Time to dish.

Tomorrow's breakfast

Here is what you need:

Goats milk feta, creamy, softly salty and oozing 

Ripe, fragrant, sweet red tomatoes

Sun-dried, meaty wrinkled black olives

Cucumbers, seeds fat with juice

Pastirma, stinky, salty, cured delicious

Green melon, sweet, soft, beautiful

Honeycomb, whole and with bees still working in it (if you don't have bees, it's okay)

Fat creamy dates

Butter, freshly churned, creamy, salty

Inconceivable amounts of jams

Fresh mint

Peppery olive oil

A variety of fresh breads

Black, astringent, fragrant tea

Here is what to do:

Place all gems, everything together, on a large platter (silver and curvy if you have one, any other if you don't) and paint your plate with all the beautiful colors, black's, white's, green's, red's and all the rest. Serve and enjoy with your dearest ones. 

I come bearing jewels ...and flowers ...

I'm here. I'm here! I know. I know. It's been a while. I wish I had a list of witty, well thought out excuses. Alas, I hadn't even realized that three weeks had gone by dear readers. Three weeks. Yikes. And when I did realize it (two days ago), straight to the keyboard I went. It felt good. I had been missing it, and you, dear readers.  I typed and I typed, diligently for hours, knowing I had at least three posts to deliver this week and after an afternoon of walking through my brain, I had completed what I needed to complete. Phew, said I. A Quick reread, some editing, ready to post ...and then, the unthinkable... I didn't like it.

I didn't like it! I really tried to like it. I had after all just spent hours writing and editing text and photos and it was all ready to go and it had been a while... I thought to myself, is this even possible? Do people not like their own stuff? But I couldn't do it. It didn't work. It didn't come together. I didn't feel it in my gut. You know? So what did I do dear readers? Well, after feeling down in the dumps for a bit and bombarding myself with what if I'm all dried up's?! what if it's gone's?! what if I can never write anything again's?! and after resisting the temptation to take it out on innocent laptop, I made myself a cup of tea (cure for all), went outside, and thought.

I thought about what the heck it is that I have been doing for the last three weeks that had kept me so busy. The time had literally flown by. When I started writing, a little over nine months ago now (wow), we were at the beginning of winter (ughh). I remember thinking to myself (shivering  and cursing under my blanket), wait... just wait until summer is here ...the markets! the produce! the adventures! I would go to the market every day! I would prepare feasts that blow minds! Every day! I would kill pigs and hunt deer and kill fish (or fish fish, or whatever!) and so on! 

Well, dear readers, what I have actually doing is quite far from what I had imagined I would be doing. It's pretty regular stuff (minus the crazy pig killing (not) roast (happened, so cool)). I've been spending a lot of time outside dear readers. Bike riding all over the place. Swimming like a fish. I started jumping and diving (off the boards!) into pools again (oceans soon, with the fish). I haven't done that since I was little. I'm working up the courage for flips. I've been taking walks and forgetting my camera, cooking (and forgetting my camera), going to the market and ...well... forgetting my camera (except once, and then I snapped way too many pictures of flowers, I can't help it).  

Flowers...one of many...I love them so ...

I've been  eating ridiculous amounts of ice cream and sorbet (like almost every night...sometimes twice ...shhhh!). I've been reading thousand page British trash (lurve them), existential tombes and everything in between. I've been soul searching and pondering life. And nothing. I have been doing a little bit of nothing at all (mhmm...you say...nothing at all ...you say...and why exactly wasn't I writing if I so clearly had time on my hands, you ask?). Well, I don't really have an answer...but I do have a recipe...a jewel of one from my cherished Australian Gourmet Traveler. So really, I come bearing jewels...and flowers... Zucchini flowers ...I love you dear readers. Thanks for reading.

Time to dish.

Zucchini flowers with ricotta, Parmesan and mint anchovy sauce

Here is what you need...for the Zucchini...

• Zucchini flowers, fifteen lovely blossoms
• Tempura flour, sieved, two cups
• Soda water, one and a half cups
• Peanut oil, for deep frying, or canola, if you like
• Flour, for dusting the little gems
• Egg whites, four, whisked to soft peaks

Here is what you need...for the filling...

• Firm Ricotta, 200 grams
• Your finest, aged, Parmesan, gingerly grated, 60 grams
• Soft goat's cheese, 60 grams
• Mint, finely chopped, a bunch, as much as you like, or a cup

Here is what you need...for the mint and anchovy sauce...

• Mint, yes dears, finely chopped, a whole bunch, go crazy, or three cups
• Your best olive oil, I mean it, half a cup
• Parsley, finely chopped, one cup
• Capers in vinegar, rinsed, chopped, finely, of course, two tablespoons
• Anchovy fillets, chopped! finely! or you could muddle them in a mortar and pestle, five of their delicious oily little bodies
• Lemon juice, of one, or as much as you like
• Or, you could forget all the chopping and just mash everything up in a mortar and pestle, yup, that's what I do

Here is what to do ...

1. Place tempura batter flour in a bowl, season to taste (salt! pepper! a dash of heat?), then gradually add soda water, whisking until combined and smooth. Set aside to rest (20 minutes).

2. For ricotta stuffing, combine ingredients in a bowl, season to taste (salt! pepper!a pinch of nutmeg?) and refrigerate until ready to stuff, gingerly.

3. Carefully remove stamens from zucchini flowers. Shape scant tablespoons of ricotta and gingerly place into fit each flower (be careful not to break the flowers as you stuff them). Gently now, twist tops of petals together to close in the yummy filling, then place on a tray and refrigerate until  ready to fry.

4. For mint and anchovy sauce, combine ingredients in a bowl and refrigerate until you need it to drizzle all over awesome zucchini's.

eggwhite, then dip in batter. Deep-fry in batches, turning occasionally, until golden (3-5 minutes; be careful as hot oil may spit). Drain on newspaper, or other paper, or towel, whatever you have, you get the point, season to taste (salt! pepper!) and serve hot with mint and anchovy sauce.

Enjoy dear readers, I have two more for you this week. Stay tuned.

Difficult and delicious ...

It was stormy outside when I asked the question. Kind of like today. I always seem to remember the weather. It was a difficult question for me to ask. I had been thinking about it, pondering its meaning for many months.

Can you help me to kill a pig? So that I understand what it means? I ask.

Sure, he says. When would you like to do it?

Just like that.

For a long time now dear readers, I have been thinking about my relationship with the land and sea creatures that I eat. The countless ducks, goats, lambs, boars, deer, cows, pigs, chickens, other birds, eggs, fish, crustaceans, mollusks and so on that have graced my table all my life. I have savored, salivated over and devoured each one of them in countless preparations, with gusto and delight. It is only recently (over the last four years or so) that the connection between the life and death involved in these delicious experiences has been on my mind (come to think of it, my inherited family's slightly freaky fondness of eating heads and everything in them may have had something to do with it - I still cannot have them on my plate). I mean, don't get me wrong, I always realized that I was eating an animal and in the back of my mind I knew that it was once a living thing, but I did not give it any more thought than that (until the heads...). It all changed for me when I started buying from the farm again. It had been a long time since my farm days in Romania. I had lost my connection for a while.

Now, you remember the king of pig don't you? Well, he's killed animals for food since his childhood days. The old fashioned way.  He speaks respectfully (as most hunters do) of the animals that have died for his consumption and his stories are told with wisdom and appreciation for the sacrifice and goodies that followed. Not a thing goes to waste. It is was with him and his wife (the queen of beans, they were seriously amazing) that I was to go and kill the pig for our pig roast. I wanted to really know what it means to eat meat. To take the responsibility. To feel it and see the animal so that I would never take it for granted. I was ready.

I didn't do it dear readers. I chickened out. 

I was too scared. Scared that it would torment me. I mean, I can't have heads on my plate and I'm going to help kill a pig? We are speaking of a 130 pound animal here. It was too much. All my bravado and noble intentions, out the door in the face of truth. I called Mr. King, confessed my fear, humbly apologized and suggested that perhaps I can start with a fish first. He understood, he knows it's not easy. He graciously obliged and promised to take us fishing this summer. I have never been.

I know this has not been the most tantalizing post leading up to what was an amazing experience and a spectacularly wonderful meal but it is real. I wanted to share the truth with you. It is how I came to attend this glorious pig roast and how it made me feel. It was difficult and delicious. Thank you pig.

Time to photo dish.

The pit ...hand built by Mr. King ...of pig ...

Of hoofs ...

And snouts ...

And heads ...

Oh my ...

The flip and nibble ...

Topsy ...

Difficult and simply delicious ...

Beans ...

Well, here I am. I can't believe it. About to type words that I never imagined would even enter my stream of consciousness, as I would (and vehemently do) curse anyone wishing upon us anything other than balmy beauty (see rant on inhumane cold here). I, dear readers, have been eagerly waiting for this day to come. This cold day. Sweater on, drinking pu'erh ginger tea, slightly uncomfortable but must be outside nails slightly blue kind of cold day. I swear. Can you believe it? I thought for sure I would "have to" wait to share this experience with you. Well, either that or bear the ridicule that surely follows an attempt to post about a Pig roast and a hot steamy Chili in 40 degree weather. Well, it was cold and rainy on Pig day (see below for a peek of tomorrow's Swine ... post) and cold and really rainy on Chili day. And, as the God's have it, cold (though not rainy) today for my post! Ha! Happy day.

So, first things first. The beans. I, have a Chili recipe. For very special nights. You know the ones. The early, just beginning, summer nights, when it's cool outside and you are curled up with windows open, listening to the heavy rain outside, feeling the breeze caress your skin, breathing in the earth that rides its current.

Time to dish.

Early summer night's Chili

Here is what you need:

• 2 tbs of Olive Oil
• Farmers onions - 3 large, diced
• Garlic - 3cloves - finely minced
• Celery - 7 stalks - sliced into 1/4 thick pieces 
• Carrots - 5 - sliced like the celery
• Mushrooms, lots, thickly sliced
• Cumin, Fennel and Coriander seeds - 1 tbs each
• Dried whole Ancho Negro chili -1
• Dried whole Chipotle Grande chili - 1
• Sugar - 2 tbs
• Ginger powder - 1 tbs
• Important: Smoked Paprika - Pimenton de la Vera "LA DALIA" (trust me) - oh and 3 tablespoons
• Cider Vinegar  - a glug, aka 2 tbs
• Soy sauce  - a big glug, aka 3 tbs
• Canned tomatoes  - 1 can whole plum, 1 can pureed
• Water - 4 cups
• Black, baby white and red beans, lots (canned or dried - if dried, you know what to do)

Garnish:

• Fresh Coriander, lots
• Cheddar, lots
• Butter, enough
• Tortilla Chips, warmed through

Here is what to do:

1. In a big beautiful pot, your favorite, sautee your onions and garlic until fragrant. Then add the carrots and celery and let them  get to know the onions and garlic, you know, for about 5 minutes. Then add your tomatoes, dried spices, chilies, seeds, vinegar, soy, sugar, smoked paprika and ginger powder...phfew...what a mouthful. Add the water for consistency. At this point let everybody simmer (on low heat) together for about an hour until they are all happy and blended. Stir occasionally.
2. Once all the flavors and aromas have blended, add your beans and cook through for another twenty minutes.

To serve: Well, I had two versions. One for me which was garnished with coriander, cheddar cheese and a squeeze of lime. One for husband. In his I added a few knobs of butter and folded them in at the very end, placed the chili bowl under the broiler for a few minutes so the cheddar can get all bubbly. I also heated the tortilla chips. It was awesome.

A peek...

While I work through the pig roast shots for tomorrows post, here is a peek ...

A peek ...

My plan is this ...

Two things happened this week dear readers (well, three if you count the F1, it was wet, we'll stick to two).

One, I got a badass new camera (thank you kickass family)! !!!!!! (feel divulgence of newly acquired badass new camera deserves exclamation points in their own right) and am super stoked about it (see copious exclamation points above for proof) and can't wait to take lots of pictures and to share them with you, dear readers!

Two, more rain. Seriously. I risk redundancy with this already but it is not stopping. My herbs and vegetables have that "droopy shoulder" look about them and my sprouts lean over with little green bodies toppled by the weight of big rain drops. I shake them off a little (some more gingerly than others) and try to perk them up with a "fist in the air come on you can do it" but there is only so much I can do. The little guys (and me) need sun (I may attempt sun dance later ...gotta look that up ...ahem ...).

More rain ...

The little guys need sun ...they are trying so hard to come out ...

My heart dear readers, dreams of Pugliese broad bean puree with boiled chicory and Fresh green pea soup with sardines and Zuppa di cece sedano (aka Fresh chickpea and celery soup) and Baby romaine Caesar salad with homemade organic egg yolk and anchovy dressing and Lemon and Feta dip and...well...lots of other fresh, beautiful spring/summer dishes.

My body, and the "freezing" 14 degree rainy, windy, blah (or cozy depending on the day dear readers, you know how it is) weather outside, however, have different dreams. They dream of Fennel soup with coppa and goat's cheese crust and Maccheroni alla chittara con ragu d'agnello (aka Guitar pasta with a lamb ragu) and Fettuccine with beetroot and nettle butter and Lamb orzo and Fontina, pecorino and leek soup.

So what does one do when hearts and bodies collide (has the makings of a dramatic love song yes?)? How will these conflicting sides unite? And what about you, you ask? You who have just been been reading tantalizing titles, some in foreign languages! What say you about that, you say?! I have a plan dear readers.

My plan is this:

Rainy week (aka this week), I am giving in to body; next week, to heart (they are calling for sunshine! they'd better be right..) As for you, dear readers, I am going to shower you with lovely recipes. Warming ones, cooling ones, all beautiful, elegant and super yummy. And when I am done with all of that, I am going to tell you a little secret about mushrooms.

Voila, le premier.

Time to dish.

Fontina, pecorino and leek soup

Here is what you need:

• Butter, of course, 50 grams.
• Olive oil, two tablespoons.
• Garlic, four cloves, finely minced.
• Dirty leeks, three of them, sliced.
• Homemade chicken stock, four cups.
• Thick slices of crusty old bread, four.
• Fontina and Pecorino, sliced and grated, 160 grams each (I added blue cheese as well 'cause that's how I roll).
• Fresh oregano (not droopy, hopefully there is sun where you are, eeesh)
• Cracked pepper.

Here is what to do:

1. Melt your butter and add your oil in a saucepan. Add the leeks and stir occasionally until lusciously soft and glistening in butter with juuust about to caramelize signs. Then add your minced garlic and cook until fragrant. Once that lovely garlic smell wafts your way, add your stock and bring to a boil.
2. Meanwhile, grill your bread, both sides please. Rub a little with fresh garlic and drizzle with your best olive oil. Top with the Fontina (and blue) and Pecorino and grill until beautifully golden and bubbling.
3. Now, presentation. Divide your lovely soup into even more lovely bowls (we must take pleasure from our vessels) top with beautifully golden, bubbling toasts. Add fresh oregano, cracked pepper. Cozy up and enjoy.