Date Truffles for the Win

At the beginning of the year I went on a no sugar cleanse. The first couple of days sucked, the withdrawal headaches and mood swings were difficult to deal with. But then by like day three, it really wasn't as hard as I expected. I didn't give up things like milk that had sugar naturally in them, but food made with sugar and all processed food. I was fine until about 10 days in. I was having the most intense cravings for chocolate. It was like the only thing I really missed. I got in a bad habit of sneaking chocolate chips with Noah around 10 in the morning which is when I usually crave sweets. So I found myself dragging my feet around the kitchen opening and closing pantry doors hoping that chocolate would  magically appear. I'm not the only one why does this right?

So then, I was talking to my neighbor, who is an avid cook as well, and she told me that she just throws some dates, raw cacao powder, and almonds into a food processor and makes truffles out of it. Dates are possibly Noah's favorite food (ranked high with avocados, yogurt, chocolate, and ice cream) so I got pretty excited.

I make these date truffles at least twice a week and I have a hard time not eating all of them as I roll them out. Noah stands at my feet while I'm preparing them, begging for "more dates, sir!" These are  indulgent little treats you can enjoy guilt free. In fact, when I was on Weight Watchers I entered this recipe in to calculate my points and it came back as zero points for several truffles. FREE DESSERT while on a diet? Hell yes!

So without further adieu, here's what you do...

Combine about 8-15 pitted medjool dates, a small handful of roasted unsalted almonds (if whole grind alone first to break down, if slivered just throw them in), and 1 tbsp raw cocoa powder in a food processor until they come together and can be formed into bite-sized balls. Depending on how moist the dates are I may at one or two more after blitzing the mixture a few times so that the "dough" comes together. You might add more chocolate too if you use a higher number of dates. Pinch off pieces of dough and roll the balls in unsweetened coconut flakes. Use your hands to press the flakes into the truffle so that it is no longer sticky and the flakes don't fall off. You could also roll them in the cacao powder. I like the texture the coconut flakes give it. And besides I put coconut flakes in almost everything.

Enjoy!

Daily Grind

Jamie Hurst, Daily Grind, digital sketch

Every time I open a new Word document and sit down to write a story or a blog post I get completely petrified. I can't think of what to say. Trying to fill the page with words is overwhelming and my mind becomes blank. Meanwhile, throughout the day my thoughts are filled with a continued dialogue of what I want to share and I feel like I'm screaming inside! I didn't realize what a part of my everyday life and thoughts this blog had become. It's been four years since I started it, and over the past year I've felt like it needed something different. Something more personal. A shared experience.

With all that being said, it turns out I have about an hour to myself a day (raises hands). With that time I'd like to write short thoughtful daily blog posts. These will be just a few sentences or maybe a few paragraphs or maybe sketches or photographs. I will still write longer posts about my travels and give as many recommendations for those travels as I can. But this way diving back in isn't so scary. How does that sound?

So on to today's thought/story…

At our local grocery store, The Sultan Center, and much like grocery stores everywhere, you can buy coffee. You can buy pre-packaged coffee or buy fresh grounds from the coffee guy. The coffee guy has a stand, more like a corner, in the store with an olive bar on one side and fresh nut bar on the other, I also frequent both of these. Around the corner is fresh produce and cheese. It's really all I need in life.

His corner has deep and wide wooden drawers filled with coffee. None of the drawers are labeled but he doesn't need them. He knows where everything is. There is a scale, two metal bowls (a small one and large one), two grinders, and a plastic wrapping machine on the counter (everything gets wrapped in plastic here. I mean why not? Oil is pouring out of the ground for nearly free just down the road! Plastic for everyone!) Above the counter is a menu that lists the following in English on one side and Arabic on the other: Royal Arabic, Arabic, Turkish, Greek, French, American. They are all the same price, about 2 KD for typical size bag which is roughly equivalent to about six USD.

The coffee guy really doesn't speak English but this is what I gathered each choice is: Royal Arabic is very lightly roasted whole coffee beans mixed with whole cardamom seeds then ground finely, almost to a powder. Arabic is the same but with no cardamom. Turkish coffee is similar to Royal Arabic but with a medium roast bean. French is dark roast or a mix of dark and medium roast ground less finely. American is a finely ground dark roast with milk. Greek is a finely ground dark roast with milk and coconut. (What?! More on this in a minute.)

The packaging of the beans is a production that Noah and I love watching. The coffee guy has the fluid of motion of someone who has perfected his craft. He does this and only this all day. Watching his hands move is mesmerizing. If you choose whole beans, he scoops them out of the draw with the small metal bowl and into the large one. He measure the amount on the scale and adds more beans as needed with a quick flick of the small bowl. After being weighed he moves the bowl to the counter. Ting, ting, ting, ting, as he turns the bowl and mixes the beans. In one motion he transfers the beans to a paper bag, not a single bean falling out, and folds the top down, staples it, flicks a plastic shopping bag open (or if you ask he will put it in a clear plastic bag and seal it) and puts it inside while grabbing the sticker with the price from the scale. This happens in less than a minute and with the expertise of a artist. All the while the intoxicating smell of freshly ground beans fills the air. I love it.

This time, I was insanely curious and had to buy the Greek coffee. First of all I'm from a Greek town in Florida (shout out to Tarpon Springs!) and I'd never heard of anyone adding coconut to their coffee there. I'd always had a cappuccino with my extra large serving of baklava. Secondly how was I to make this magical brew? The coffee guy had no idea what I was asking or how to explain.

I brewed it in my French press like I usually brew all coffee though I believe you could just put it in a cup and add hot water. Like a traditional Turkish coffee, the grounds settled on the bottom on their own. I got super excited because this was just as easy as making instant coffee, the milk was already in there, and it had a ton more flavor. The coconut was subtle but added a nice complexity that had me coming back for more. It's really the little things in life that make each day.

What is your coffee shopping experience like?

Qout (Farmer's) Market

The brainchild of two local foodies, Noaf Hussein of Pretty Little Things and Budour Al-Qassar of The Oven Experiments, Qout Market was presented by Al-Qassar at the 2012 Middle East-North Africa Active Citizen Sum-mit, organized by the American Council of Young Political Leaders (ACYPL), in partnership with the US State Department. At the end of the summit, Qout Market was selected as a grantee and organization be-gan. The first market was in November 2013.

Qout Market is an outdoor farmer’s market (‘qout’ meaning Arabic for ‘food’) that takes place on the first Saturday of every month until April 2014 (which is the end of the growing season). I was so excited to learn about this as I miss going to the Dupont farmer's market terribly. It wasn't exactly the same, still fresh produce is hard to come by. At least the little that can be produced locally is represented there (and at the grocery stores). Most of the booths feature street food (SO good), fresh flowers, artisanal products (there was a woman selling vintage sunglasses and I almost caved and bought all of them), baked goods, and local programming. There were also things to do with your kids, like purchase baby chickens (no joke) and craft stands.

The next market will be on February 1st - This Saturday! Go early and eat all of the foods - like we did!

Follow @Qoutmarket on Instagram for images and up-to-date information. Use hashtag #qoutmarket if you want to share your pictures from the market.

It’s located on the rooftop of Arraya parking lot and open from 10AM to 7PM. GPS Coordinates: 29.376306, 47.990408.

I Have Standards

Amongst other things, I'm a coffee snob. I LOVE coffee. I love it more than wine (gasp) and I could drink it with every meal. Yes, every meal, morning, noon and night. When I was a working girl I would drink a cup in the mornings before work, then grab one on the way to the office - which I would sip on until lunch time. Sometimes in the afternoon I would get a third cup, though usually decaf. If I couldn't get a third cup, I would re-heat the old coffee for the afternoon. I know what you're thinking, and yes it did taste burnt.

I've been spoiled in almost every place I've lived with perfectly delicious coffee. Actually I remember the first Starbucks that opened in my hometown. It was at the Tampa International Airport and I believe I was just old enough for it to be OK for me to have coffee. Back then, going to the airport was a treat because usually we were picking up someone in town to visit and we could get a cup of Starbucks while we waited. In NYC and DC there were plenty of locally roasted, home grown places to purchase the perfect cup. In Dupont Circle, within a two minute walking radius from my apartment I had over five coffee shops to choose from. There wasn't a moment I had to consider drinking something sub-par.

My favorite type of coffee - not including type of beans and level of roasting - is just plain old American drip coffee. I sometimes drink it black, sometimes with a splash of milk, and once in a while black with a smidgen of honey (I don't really like sweet drinks). When at home I make my coffee by heating the water in a stove top kettle, grinding the beans fresh, and brewing in a single cup french press. I make one cup at a time. The process of making it has become a ritual for me. A way to transition from night to day, from dreams to reality.

Kuwait is a dry country - in case you didn't already know. I never thought I would move to a dry county let alone a dry country. No pork or porn either. I know, what a lame place you might be thinking. But its redeeming quality, at least in my mind before we arrived, was that they have a very active coffee culture. Instead of a bar on every corner, there are coffee shops. Just like in other large cities, sometimes two Starbucks face each other. Besides Starbucks there is Caribou Coffee, Illy, and MANY local joints I've yet to hit up. My fantasy was to buy beans from these local joints and experiment with local flavor.

Ah, yes. How does that old saying go? "The best laid schemes of mice and men, go often awry." Once pregnant and sick as a dog my little cafe dreams didn't stand a chance (and moving to a dry country suddenly didn't seem so crazy). Although my doctor said it was OK to drink 6-8 oz of caffeine a day, I couldn't even smell coffee in my first trimester. The idea of drinking it made me gag. I replace my morning ritual with dry Eggo waffles and orange juice.

Recently, I've began to be wooed by coffee again. Regular coffee now gives me the jitters and what I didn't count on is that no one really drinks decaf here. Here in this entire country. There is no decaf American drip coffee to be had (iced decaf Americana has been the closest acceptable substitute). Not even decaf beans at the grocery store.

With each passing day of not finding exactly what I wanted. My standards changed. My mind opened. One day, I found decaf instant Folger's and bought it with the excitement of a 5 year old on Christmas. I got home and "brewed" it right away. I set up a place setting and dusted off my favorite coffee cup. It tasted like dirty soapy water. My little heart was broken with defeat.

Finally after over a month of searching, I've found something acceptable. In an isolated little corner of my local grocery store there is a section called "organic corner". It has packaged organic goods including instant decaf coffee! And it doesn't taste like dirty soapy water!

Now I gladly drink my instant decaf coffee each morning in the crisp fall air on my balcony (and by crisp fall I mean mid to high 70s). I drink my coffee with pride and satisfaction because by drinking it I was able to overcome the biggest obstacle of moving overseas - managing my own expectations.

Candy Orange Slices

When I was a little girl my sister and I used to go over to my grandparents' house. We would go over there often, for entire weekends, and on weekdays after school. No matter how frequent our visits, we always had special little things we did. For instance, we played dress up in my grandmother's silk night gowns and made up dance routines to Disney soundtracks (Beauty and the Beast being a favorite) and Barry Manilow tapes (no snickering, he's awesome). One special treat always sticks out in my mind when I think about those days.

When you walked in the front door of their house the formal living room was to the left. We weren't really allowed to play in there as it was for adult company. The room wrapped around to the formal dining room and then connected to the kitchen, where you would walk if you went straight instead of to the left when you walked in the door. We could run around the entire house in a loop. On the coffee table in the formal living room there was a large glass lidded candy dish. My grandfather was a sucker for orange slice candies and always had the bowl filled with them. For a long time he was the only person I knew who actually ate them (much like finding the person who really likes Peeps or candy message hearts you get on Valentine's Day). I used to run through the room and sneak a slice or two while we were there. I never took too many because I didn't want him to know I was sneaking one of his special candies!

Many years later my grandfather has passed away, the house has been sold, and the candy dish sent to a consignment shop. Sometimes when I'm feeling lonely or I miss him, I'll swing by a drug store and buy a bag of orange slices. I eat them quietly and linger over the crunch of the sugar crystals between my teeth. The gummy texture and artificial orange flavor take back 20 years. While I'm eating them I think about my grandfather and all of our wonderful memories together. 

Do you have any foods that bring your back to your childhood? Any that help you remember your loved ones?

A Dedication to Honey

Honey is one of my favorite ingredients. I say a lot of things are my favorite, but honey really is. Its dependable and so versatile. I like that it can only come from bees and that people across all continents can enjoy their own domestic honey (that's right, its everywhere!) and that the honey's taste reflects the local flora, so its always different. It can be eaten directly out of the comb or strained and packaged. It lasts for years too, not that I've ever experienced that first hand. It can make the perfect addition to a bowl of fruit or take the edge off of a spicy meal. I like to add a touch to my otherwise black morning coffee. 

A few weeks ago I went down to my cousin's house in south Florida. He has a small farm, trapping business, and recently started harvesting honey from his own bees. I was impressed with his ability to take on a new challenge and to do it so well. His honey (pictured) was the perfect souvenir from my visit. I swear I can taste what Florida smells like when I eat it - citrus, fresh cut grass, and wild flowers. He recommended eating it on vanilla ice cream. There's no going back now, my ice cream has gone to a whole new level of delicious. He really should bottle and sell it (maybe through High Heeled Traveler?).

On a side note, bees are apparently non-aggressive when you aren't trying to get their honey. I witnessed another one of my cousins actually pet a bee once and it didn't try to sting him. I almost passed out watching him do it.

Thoughts on Eating Octopus

It was a chilly spring evening in March. The kind we anticipate wearing lighter sweaters and no tights but instead throw on wool coats and closed toed heels. Tammy and I arrived at Brasserie Beck five minutes late. Unusual for us as we always arrive right on time, the first ones to every party. The hostess directed us to our group, most of whom where already waiting at the table. The lovely ladies of Gilt City were hosting us and six other bloggers for a night of fine dinning and a little getting-to-know-you conversation. We all warmly greeted each other, I was so happy to see such familiar faces and looking forward to what the evening held. As we chatted one server took my coat and helped me with my chair, and another offered me a glass of Sauvignon Blanc to start our dinner. I like to start a multi-course meal with this varietal as it usually appeals to many taste buds and goes nicely just about anything usually served to first. It pairs particularly well with cured meat and cheese (including bleu cheeses) and oysters, which is what we were generously served to begin our communal meal.

I realized mid first course that we were in a Belgian restaurant specializing in seafood. I hoped my fear wasn’t detectable on my face. Since I was in the womb I have not had a taste for any creature from the ocean. And by that I mean - if I smell fish I get nauseated and I certainly don’t eat it.

The story starts when my mother was pregnant with me. She is a seafood lover. She loves sushi, grilled grouper sandwiches, scallops in pasta, steamed mussels in butter sauce, raw oysters, and most of all, crab cakes. An ideal meal for her would be a 4 oz. piece of grilled fish with a huge pile of grilled veggies to accompany it. She would eat this meal outdoors in the fresh air with perhaps a glass of chardonnay in hand. It would be near sunset and the landscape would have a golden hue. As if being ripped out of fantasyland and much to her surprise, when she was pregnant with me, she was sick at the mere suggestion of eating seafood. Lucky for her, she was back to normal after I was born. Now, it is common knowledge in my family that I will throw up in a fish market and I cried once when I saw a live lobster thrown into a boiling pot of water.

When I was a little girl, my parents tried to get my sister and I to eat fish sticks. My sister gladly ate them while I could barely gag them down – even though they were fried with delicious breadcrumbs and slathered in ketchup. I went through a phase when I was between 6 and 8 when I would eat Blue Crab legs if we were in a restaurant where they only served seafood. The taste of the ocean lingers in the air in those types of places and overpowers all other flavors. Even the burgers taste like fish. My eating the crab legs was a relief for my parents because my sensitive palate could be accommodated. Then suddenly one day, I hated Blue Crab legs and I haven’t had them in twenty years.

At the age of 16 my family took a trip to the Grand Canyon. We flew out to dude ranch then spent three days rafting down the Colorado River and camping on the banks of the canyon, an incredible experience. There were four college-aged kids in charge of 40 people on our expedition. They cooked everyone three meals a day and set up camp every night. We all slept on cots in the open air and went to the bathroom in a metal bucket that was somehow private while always having the most magnificent views of the canyon. For lunch every day we got tuna salad sandwiches. It was the only choice and if you didn’t eat it you would be mighty hungry when dinner rolled around five hours later. So I ate it. And it was fine. I didn’t gag or whine or embarrass myself. And I thought, maybe my palate changed with adolescence and I like seafood now? Unfortunately, it must have been a time and place type of situation because when I tried to recreate the sandwich at home, I was so disgusted that I ended up giving it to my sister.

As I consider myself a lover of food, I don’t like being limited by my taste buds. I want to be able to participate in life and all of its abundance. At least once a year I try to have something I’ve never eaten before. This usually happens easily when I’m put in similar situations like I was in the Grand Canyon. I’ll be on vacation in an unfamiliar place and sometimes have to order food in an unfamiliar language. There have been times when I’m not even sure what I ate but I was glad to have a warm meal.

At Brasserie Beck I got away with not eating the oysters. It seemed like everyone around me really enjoyed them but I was afraid to. I ate my weight in cured meats and cheese to compensate. My glass was refilled with Sauvignon Blanc at least twice by the end of the first course and the conversations were flowing like a glacial stream on a hot spring day. I wanted everyone at the table to be my best friend and for the night to never end. Several waiters cleared the table and presented the second course. The head chef, Robert Wiedmaier, paid us a visit at this time. He asked how everything was and encouraged us to enjoy this next course. I looked down at the table to find long charred octopus tentacles staring back at me.

I noticed Tammy watching me from across the table. We locked eyes as my new friends gobbled up the sea creature. I could no longer get away with quietly not eating. She outed me by shouting, “Jamie, are you ok with this?” All attention was turned to me. I felt my cheeks blush as someone said, “do you not like seafood?” I didn’t know what to say.

It is universally considered rude to not eat food that is served to you by your host. If you are visiting friends and they spend the day cooking for you, it is insulting to say, “oh sorry, I don’t eat that.” You don’t turn your nose up at someone’s generosity and hospitality. The same rules apply if someone hosts you at a restaurant instead of their home. The last thing I wanted to do was offend the kindness these women were showing us. So finally I said, “I don’t usually have a taste of seafood. But I’ll give this a try.” Then as the words left my mouth, I received an influx of encouragement from everyone at the table, “the texture is like a tender grilled meat” “try it with the salsa on top, it’s a nice combo” “just take a little bite” “let us know what you think.” I was terrified and shaking as I took a piece off of the platter. I smiled and did my best to divert the conversation back to someone else.

The words around me faded to white noise. All I could see was my plate in front of me. I cut into the tentacle. It was tender, a white meat, slightly flakey and softer than a scallop. The salsa was fresh and bright, a combination of cucumbers, roasted peppers, and shaved red onions dressed in oregano and caper vinaigrette. I balanced a quarter-sized amount of meat onto my fork and with as much salsa that would stay on. Then put it in my mouth. It was good. Great actually. It didn’t have an “of the sea” flavor at all. In fact, it was fresh and new and interesting. The combo of the wine, salsa, and octopus made me want to sit on a sun drenched porch somewhere on a beach with white sand and crystal clear water. It made me feel like suddenly winter wasn’t clinging to the air outside. I ate the rest of the portion on my plate and went for more. I surprised my companions and myself. They applauded my efforts discretely as we all commented on how lovely the meal had been thus far.

I couldn’t help but smile. I was so proud of myself. The table was cleared again and the salad course served, arugula with one large prawn. As I looked at the prawn, a wave of excitement came over me. I thought about an episode of Anthony Bourdain, No Reservations where he and his travel companion were eating prawns. They stared by sucking the brains out, and then devoured the bodies. I shivered, then cut the body from the head with my knife and ate it in small pieces with the salad. I left the head alone, baby steps. I felt like a champion. I felt like I climbed a mountain, and a steep one at that. Adrenalin pumped through my veins.

It was now time for the main course and our wine was switched to red. A Pinot Noir to accompany the Thursday night special: roasted Moulard duck breast with brandied sweet potato puree, fricassee of winter vegetables, kumquat marmalade and Madeira jus. By the time dessert and dessert wine came, I was in a state of pure bliss. My taste buds and stomach were sufficiently challenged, then rewarded. Conversations lingered past the table being cleared and check paid. We were making plans to see each other again, to reunite over happy hour or the next blogger event, and vowed to run a 5K together. We put our coats on and dispersed in cabs back to our homes, still squeezing in one last bit of gossip as we parted ways.

That night I realized something. For those of us who have a curious soul and traveling mind, we don’t always have to go far from home to experience the rush of encountering the unknown. Sometimes, all we have to do is choose something different on the menu.

Call for Submissions! High Heeled Traveler Issue Two: The Road Not Taken

Hello, dear readers! Thanks so much for all your support for the launch of High Heeled Traveler, The Magazine. I am nearly sold out of Issue One: Exploring Home (so exciting)! So if you would like a copy, go here to purchase.

As soon as the first issue was printed, I began working on issue two (talk about a whirlwind!). Issue two will center around Robert Frost's poem, The Road Not Taken. Here is the poem in case you are unfamiliar:

Mountain Interval
The Road Not Taken
1920
Robert Frost (1871-1963)

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim, 
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I always choke up when I read this poem as it touches me in a very real and emotional way. Sometimes it can be hard to make as simple a decision as what to each for lunch. Other times we are faced with life decisions that can lead us down on path or another. I see this more and more in relation to my career as I age. As I made decisions not to take the traditional path, some doors close that can never be reopened. But the path I've chosen is refreshing and challenging and welcome. This applies to all aspects of our lives, private and public. Taking control of our lives and making impassioned and courageous decisions instead of living in fear, can make all the difference.

I am looking for artists, writers, poets, chefs, historians, musicians, and experts in their fields to share their stories and images inspired by this poem. Topics can include anything related to art, architecture, culture, science, gastronomy, travel, style and even personal memoirs. Submissions can be made by email to jamie@highheeledtraveler.com. Please submit poetry and writings as PDF documents and artwork or images as high-resolution TIFF files. Don't forget to include your contact information. All work must be original and created for this issue. Deadline for submissions is JUNE 1.

A special note if you are interested in submitting original music or video, I would love to include these by publishing the lyrics and stills in the magazine with a link to the song or video on my blog.

Kitchen Sink Granola

Sometimes when I get home after a long trip or even if I've been up for 18 hours straight working, I don't want to drag out the recipe books and run to the farmer's market. Our farmer's market is Sunday mornings anyways, when I'm usually somewhere else. I used to be a cereal junkie for this reason. It was my go to "I'm not thinking just shoveling this into my mouth so I'm not hungry" meal when I got home from a trip or when I was crazy stressed. Just a box of cereal and half gallon of milk would get me through 48 hours of, well, just about anything (including exam week in college). 

But last year I decided to let go of my addiction. It took a while. I love the crunch of cereal and how the cold milk gets swept up in each bite. Cereal is mostly sugar though and full of crap I don't need to put in my body. So I began experimenting with granola which has many more wholesome bits to fuel my body. 

After using many different grains and ingredients, I came to one conclusion and that is you really can't go wrong with this stuff. Here's a basic recipe that you can change or expand based on whatever you happen to have in the house that day (hence the kitchen sink part). Many of these ingredients have a decent shelf life, so they can even be waiting for you after that long journey home.

Kitchen Sink Granola

Start by measuring out one and a half cups of rolled oats into a mixing bowl. I like to use a glass one so I can see the pretty layers forming before I mix up the ingredients. Then add a quarter cup of both coconut oil and coconut flakes, a tablespoon of chia seeds and one of crushed flax seeds, a half teaspoon of vanilla extract and teaspoon of cinnamon. If I have pumpkin seeds, sometimes I'll add those. Add almonds, crushed, sliced or whole, whatever your preference and as much as you'd like. Just be careful on how much you add because while delicious and nutritious, nuts and seeds can be rather fattening. 

To make a toasted granola, at this point you can spread this mixture onto a baking sheet and pop it into the oven at 350 degrees until whenever you start to smell the almonds roasting. I would check on it at five minutes and again at ten. Once it cools a bit, you can add fresh or dried fruits and chocolate chips for a topping on yogurt or as a replacement for cereal with cold milk. 

OR you can skip the oven and add a few more ingredients to make raw granola and then go really crazy and throw that into the freezer to make bars. Here's the next round of ingredients... add a half cup of creamy peanut butter and one mashed up banana. I also like to add dried fruit like raisins, cranberries, papaya, or apricot. You can also omit the almonds if you find it too nutty with the almonds and peanut butter. Sometimes I omit the almonds and use crunchy peanut butter. I know, it gets pretty wild in my kitchen.

If you want to make bars, spread the mixture onto a layer of plastic wrap on a glass baking dish (size up to you, bigger dish will equal thinner bars). Then cover mixture with another layer of plastic wrap. Throw in the freezer for up to an hour to harden, then cut up and store in individual snack bags in the freezer until consumed. I make these sometimes as breakfast on the go for Gman.

So I'd love to know, how do you experiment in the kitchen? What is your go to food when you are exhausted or stressed?

Sumac: A taste of the Middle East

When I'm not traveling, I like to cook at home with Gman. I love cooking, in fact. I love using my hands to make something and I like experimenting with new combinations (lucky for me, Gman will eat just about anything).

I like to cook with ingredients we collect from our adventures. We’ve bought olive oil and lavender from the South of France, honey from West Virginia, apples in the Hudson River Valley, beer in Denver, wine in Napa Valley, barbecue sauce in Savannah, smoked salt from Seattle, and strawberry jam from Germany – just to name a few! Recently on a trip to the Middle East, Gman had the once in a lifetime chance to visit a spice market in Erbil, Iraq and brought home a huge bag of sumac.

Sumac is a spice commonly found throughout the Middle East. (It is not from a poisonous plant of a similar name in North America.) Dried and ground up, it has a reddish color and is used as a spice in food and as a dye (even turns your fingers red when you handle it). Sumac has a tart lemony flavor that is wonderful on everything from fish, chicken, lamb, veggies, hummus, and even just on rice. Gman argues it is best simply on kebobs.

I’ve really enjoyed adding this spice to our meals. I cook chicken breast in olive oil and a little bit of white wine. Then add the sumac once it is finished cooking in the pan. Adding it at the end is key, as it will burn during the cooking process. I also add it to my routine hummus and Stacy’s pita chips (I would say hummus and veggies, but let’s be honest with ourselves, those pita chips are so salty and delicious).

Have you ever tried introducing a new ingredient to your regular meals? Has it been successful?