Spiced Pomegranate Lamb with Rice

Sarah suggested I start posting recipes for some of the things I cook. I realized that I don’t measure anything when I cook, so it might be difficult to post the way I go about it. However, I will give it a shot- I find learning about other peoples cooking techniques alone is interesting, so hopefully you will find it to be too!

Lamb

1 ½ pounds lamb, cut into cubes
½ cup pomegranate molasses
¼ cup olive oil
2 tablespoons each of:
-cinnamon
-nutmeg
-all spice
-cumin
-cardamom
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper
one medium sized onion, roughly chopped
5 cloves garlic, roughly chopped

Rice

2 cups basmati rice
2/3 cup vermicelli (you could skip this if you don’t have it on hand!)
¼ cup ghee/semna or oil- olive or vegetable works fine
½ cup each of each, but you could substitute other nuts if you wanted:
-roasted pistachios, roughly chopped
-pine nuts
-almond flakes
-golden raisins

Crank your oven up to 425 and pull out a dutch oven or covered casserole dish. To start off, combine the olive oil and half of the pomegranate molasses in a small bowl. Combine all spices plus salt in pepper in a separate bowl. Dunk each lamb cube in the olive oil/molasses mixture and then cover in spices and put in your dutch oven. Put the dutch oven, uncovered, in the hot oven for about 20 minutes, or until the lamb is fragrant, browning and producing juices. Pull out the dutch oven and turn the oven down to 300. Pour water over the lamb until it is covered, and add the onion and garlic. I usually scrape the bottom of the dutch oven to pull up those yummy lamb flavor particles. Add the rest of the pomegranate molasses. If you are feeling sassy, throw in some cinnamon sticks and bruised cardamom pods- FYI, I’m always sassy about cinnamon sticks and cardamom pods.

Cover the dutch oven, stick it back in the 300 degree oven, and be prepared to wait. This lamb is best if you give it 3 to 3 ½ hours in the oven. While it is cooking, every once and a while I pull it out to check its progress- if the liquid starts to reduce and expose the meat, pour some more water over it and stick it back in the oven. This type of lamb usually becomes pretty edible about an hour in; but if you have the time, wait it out- I find the results after 3 ½ hours of cooking are well worth it!

When I figure there is about ½ hour to go on the lamb, I start the rice. First, I always soak my rice for a few hours in a bowl of water- this softens the kernel and helps release the flavor, which is really nice with basmati or jasmine rice. Pull out a non-stick sauce pan, and throw half of that fat (either that ghee or oil) in the bottom of the pan over medium heat. Toss in the vermicelli, and make sure to stir it because it will start to burn quickly. When it is a golden brown, toss in your drained rice and turn up the heat a bit. You want to keep stirring the rice until it starts to color a bit and soften.

Here comes the eye-balling part: Pull the dutch oven out and pull off some of the stock. I use a little Turkish coffee pot because you can stick it in the pan and it is nice and pourable. Take as much as you can get, and replace the stock with some more water, and put the dutch oven back in the oven. Pour the stock over the rice- you want to cover it by about ¾ to 1 inch. So, if you have too much stock, don’t keep pouring. If you don’t have enough, admit defeat and use water. Stir the liquid into the rice and give that stock a taste- if you need salt, add a little.
Turn the heat up and bring the rice to a rolling boil. If you are STILL feelings sassy, throw in some cardamom pods. Then cover and reduce to low. Whatever you do, don’t lift the lid for at least 20 minuets!

Throw a little of what ever fat you used in a skillet, and dump in the nuts. I salt them a bit as well, as nuts tend to come unsalted here. Once they start to brown, throw in the golden raisins- watch those carefully because they can burn quickly and turn into angry brown bombs. Once everything is fragrant, turn off the heat and set to the side.

The rice should be getting close to done after about 20 minutes. Its not an exact science I find- thus I make sure my rice pot has a glass lid. If it is looking fluffy and good, go ahead and lift the lid off and taste it. If it needs more time, stick the lid back on and admit defeat again and be patient.

When the rice is ready to go, scoop it onto a serving platter. Spoon the lamb over the rice, and cover with the nuts and raisins! I will admit, this photo features some delicious boiled quail eggs… and if you look, there are golden flakes of the much coveted crust from the bottom of the rice pan!

Produce and eggs galore!

One of my favorite parts about living abroad is taking advantage of different available ingredients. Quail eggs are so cute and spotted! And check out those quality tomatoes...

Where to go from here...

Now that I have broken out of “the system,” am a “free woman,” and can do anything that I please, the possibilities that lay ahead seem more like an overwhelming nebulous blur than a clear illuminated path to my ideal future. My philosophy of keeping doors open has always translated into a mental image of white poufy clouds, each carrying a door with a beautiful golden handle with golden sunshine rays pouring in, beckoning me to all the possibilities my future holds. Now that I have the opportunity to take those golden sunshine rays up on their offer, that mental image is different. I see a long hall with terrible red velvet carpet, flickering gothic sconces, doors laden with thick wrought iron handles, and a chute to an abyss on the other side.

So, when I close my eyes these days, that is what I see. But I shake my head and open them, and tell myself I am very lucky to have had the opportunity to come here, to fulfill at least what I thought was my dream the moment I said “I’m going!” Taking responsibility for my actions has become a theme lately- that translates into me telling myself, “Well, kid, this is what you wanted, so you better get the best out of it.”

Fear not, my friends- I do not hate life over here in Beirut. Quite to the contrary. I happen to have just watched My Sisters Keeper, can barely see through my swollen, teary eyes, and am having a moment of introspection. Sappy movies about valuing family, friends and life in general always reel me into some serious thinking about what I am running away from. Or towards? Or, am I just running for the sake of running?

When I think about what I am going to do when I graduate with my Masters in Urban Planning and Policy in June 2012, I always think first about the people I want to surround myself with. I think of Northern California and being in my Mothers kitchen, leaning up against the counter and seeing a room full of women that mean the world to me. Friends I have known since pre-school, friends I have traveled the world with. Friends who are falling in love, having babies, living their lives- all with out me. I get email updates, I see them once a year if I am lucky. It is always as though nothing has changed. Same faces, same kitchen table, same love.

I also think of DC. In DC there is a group of young, brilliant people who choose to be in this particular city because they are driven to shape the future of our country. A group of leaders and mentors who supported me even though I was different. People who think like me, and even better, people who don’t. Friends and old colleagues who I became an adult with, who challenged my perceptions, who encouraged and supported me when I decided to drop it all and walk away. Friends who I could not have made this choice without.

And oddly, the place that exists in the fuzzy allure of over-exposed vintage film fantasy is Indiana. When I think of bliss, I think of an old country road to a lake in southern Indiana that I'm not sure I have ever been on. It is a fantasy of simplicity, bass fishing, flannel shirts, Bruce Springsteen and Neil Young. It is watching drive-in movies, running through corn fields, and shooting the shit with my college roommates under the stars. It is the warm glow of 4460 Broadway street, and watching the fireflies twinkle as I dance on the porch to old records with my grandfather.

I think of all these people and places, and I can’t figure out where I want to be. I can’t figure out where I need to be. And worst of all, I actually need to decide. It is time to grow up, and it is time to decide where this life is taking me. Or, I guess this is the point where I say: It is time for me to decide where I am taking this life.

Do I apply to USAID and bridge my old career with a new one, live in DC and work for a mission which flies an altruistic banner that I can stand tall under? Where I can travel the world, have long philosophical conversations about politics and war, and go to Nationals games? Give James a break from Maria by going shopping, enjoying fall leaves and eating at the newest restaurant we have salivated over? What will I do about my serious misgivings about the greater political context in which aid is given?

Do I move home to the Bay Area and work for some urban planning company and let my life revolve around car turning radii, increasing public space in housing developments, and calming rush hour traffic through transportation infrastructure interventions? Babysit while Celia and Bob have date night, go to Napa with the girls and watch another one of my friends bite the dust and get hitched? But after the places I have been and the things that have become a part of me, can Marin keep me happy?

Now translating Indiana to a future is the tough one. What makes me want to go to Indiana as quickly as possible is my Grandmother. When I was leaving Indiana in August, I said goodbye to her. I said goodbye being quite sure that she would not be sitting in her chair by the time I got back. If my Grandmother is still alive when I come home, my decision may be made.

Where am I in all of these equations? I can’t separate myself from the prospect of being with the people I love. But I love people in all of these places. So peeling back the next layer still leaves just me. I want it all. I want all of these things, and I want all of these people to continue to be a part of my life. Asides from being a wandering nomad, I am still at a loss on how this all works out. I feel like all of this running has me coming to an edge- a sea cliff perhaps, one I have no interest in going over. Or maybe I am running up a big mountain path, and when I get to the top, I will have to come back down. I can’t expect anyone to keep up with all this running, especially when I don’t know where I am going.

I’m having trouble with the mental image of my end point- what happiness and satisfaction will look like. For now it is me with my eyes closed, smiling and feeling content. On a porch- somewhere. Surrounded by friends- which ones, I am not sure. But for sure I know that this smiling me has made up her mind, and she is content- and this contentment doesn’t mean giving up dreams, friends or family. Now I just need to figure out how I find this porch and I’m sure the rest will fall into place.

New Digs and Rabbits

It is official- I have had my first dinner guests. I am all settled into my new apartment and couldn’t be happier. It is clean and comfortable, and the perfect size for one person. I selected “apartment number 3”- the one bedroom furnished place by the sea in Ain el Mressieh.

Earlier this week a woman and her husband moved into the other apartment on my floor. She is a PhD candidate and a professor told me she was in a bad situation and needed a new place- I knew there was an open apartment and brought her to see the place. They moved in the next day! So now I have neighbors whom I like, which makes the place even better. We made dinner together last night and it was wonderful.

After dinner, we went for a walk. I now live in the neighborhood which I wrote about in my Research Methods class As we were walking by the terraced property in the shadows of the high rise tower going up, I pointed out these huge bunnies that were hopping around. I had seen them out before nibbling grass, but I didn’t know who they belonged to. While we were talking about the bunnies, a man came up an said “do you want to see them?” I said, “No!” because they are huge and terrifying. But, he went inside and brought back a baby and shoved it in my hands.

We end up going inside- the building is actually the site managers (and bunny enthusiasts) office. He has a little garden in back with about 6 imported huge fancy rabbits, a fish tank with piranhas and backlit rose bushes. It was quite surreal. So, being the little urban planning enthusiast that I have become, I used the bunny small talk as an inroad.

The terracing that I spoke of, and the trees- they were his idea. Because the building will take multiple years to put up, he wanted a nice environment to work in. Most of what I thought was old squatter residences are really worker residences- mostly from Syria. There is a house where “poor people” live- he seemed to let them stay for the time being in exchange for looking over the property and apparently doing his laundry.

The Syrian workers actually reside on a large portion of the property, so I asked what was going to be built there, and he said nothing for now. They are going to keep housing the Syrians there and bus them to other areas of the city because the same company is putting up 7 other buildings that need workers. I wonder how the new residents of the luxury tower are going to feel about the Syrian shantytown out side their window. Hopefully they will be too enchanted with their sea view to notice.

I will try and write more... been busy with class!

Weighing what is Important in a Place to Live

So, I am moving out of my apartment. A few too many cockroach encounters (including an incident involving me blow drying my hair, accidentally blowing a hiding cockroach off of the door jam and onto my body and a fateful choice between turning on the sink to wash it away or becoming electrocuted by my hair dryer) has led me to decide to pursue other accommodations. The cheap price of my current apartment convinced me that the dingy bathroom and strange kitchen were survivable. Now, my roach friends and mysterious pink dust puffs all over the apartment have me reconsidering.

Problem: I have bought appliances. I have a bed. So now in my search, there is this strange tension between getting a furnished and unfurnished place. If I get a furnished place, I bought the appliances for nothing- though I can bring my bed. If I get an unfurnished place, I have to buy MORE furniture.

I have a few choices. One is a beautiful two bedroom, close to the water. Has an office, is quiet, very clean. Unfurnished. I could bring my appliances- they wouldn’t go to waste- but the problem is the place is HUGE and doesn’t have closets. Not only would I need a couch, table, lamps, kitchen ware, desk- I would need places to store my clothes. It is so nice and clean- but it is also the priciest of my options- plus you have to pay into the generator in the building, when I am never even around during the day to use the electricity!

I saw another apartment today that has an unbeatable central location. It is right next to Bread Republic, my favorite spot. It is on Hamra Street- the main drag with everything. Across the street from a nice hotel- also a bonus is that the area is developed- no construction jackhammers torturing me. However, the bedroom is positioned right on the street. When I was looking at it I was too happy about the location to think of listening to the street noise level. That street is always hopping. May not be so conducive to studying. However, the place has two bedrooms (though they are basically connected) so it would be nice for when people come to visit! This is the cheapest of the options, probably because it is a little worn down and has no generator.

The third option I have not yet seen. It is close to the first, not in a commercial area, and is furnished. A small looking one bedroom, but it looks clean and livable. I’m going to look at it tomorrow. My only concern with it is that it looks so tight for space that when people come to visit it wouldn’t be very useful. And I think I am hesitant because the first place is so nice I would be willing to not live in a commercial area as a tradeoff. This one isn’t as nice and spacious, so I don’t know if I want to make that trade off.

Central location + noise? Peace, quiet and lovely bathroom fixtures + biting the bullet and sinking money into furniture I will only use for 20 months? Middle of the road? I always hate middle of the road. So… compromisey.

Hopefully I decide tomorrow…

What does “dangerous” feel like?

On Friday, I was sitting at a café escaping one of Beirut’s torrential rainstorms accompanied by resonating thunder and flooded streets. The internet was down, people were hiding under awnings. Perfect time for a Turkish coffee and some urban planning theory reading.

I go to this place often, so I know the guys that run the place. We were going back and forth a bit about the weather and politics. After a few minutes, a sheepish little older woman walks up to my table and asks me, “You were speaking English, right? Are you from America?” I tell her I am, and she takes a seat. She says 50 years ago she came to Lebanon to visit a friend she had made in college. Now, she had come back with another friend to see how Beirut had changed. Then, she cut right to it- “Should I be scared?” she said. The question threw me off, and I tried to maintain my eye contact with her so that my answer was convincing- “Of the traffic in Beirut? Yes, I supposed we all should be a bit scared.” She laughed slightly, but continued, “We have been reading about the rising tensions. Some people have told us that the mood in Beirut is the same as it was before the civil war. Why is Ahmadinijad coming to Lebanon? What does that mean? What is this Special Tribunal and why are people so mad about it? Are we going to be okay?”

I couldn’t imagine asking another person this series of questions, especially one I had just met in a café. But, all of her questions were valid, and ones I have been considering over the past few months myself. At the end of the day, I don’t know who has control over the future of Lebanon. However, there is something I know quite confidently- it certainly is not me. No matter what I do here, the future events- whether they be driven by Syrian encroachment on Lebanese sovereignty, the political, military and religious whims of Hassan Nasrallah, or by Lebanese citizens is some form or another saying “enough is enough”- I will only be here to watch it happen.

As a momentary aside to describe my current views of Lebanese politics, I can only say that I am beginning to think some forms of dictatorship or authoritarian regime are in many ways more responsive to the needs of citizens then a faux or broken democratic system, or one riddled with corruption. Those authoritarian regimes have to cater enough to the basic needs of the populace to keep them complacent. I have not seen that in Lebanon. The price for the right to vote seems to be quite high. The disgust your average Lebanese has with politics has me again questioning the American approach of idealizing democracy in the Middle East- at least when it doesn’t effect our strategic goals of securing oil markets, malleable partners in the global war on terror and strategic counterweights to Iran.

Back to the nice little lady with fear written all over her face- knowing that she was going to persist with her line of questioning, I told her about the way I have been thinking about the current Lebanese political state of affairs. I told her that the Special Tribunal (click here to read about it from the UN point of view) has to be put into the current context- it may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but given the current political climate, who can benefit from STL indictments? What will they help? People have back peddled so quickly that nothing but a vacuum of mistrust and rumor surround the STL. She looked quite worried at this point, and I realized that no matter how much I explained, that the end point was the same. Yes, Lebanon could disintegrate at any time. But what does that mean? How many times have we seen on the news that a country is falling apart, or that international leaders are “worried?” I honestly don’t know what that means. Simple catch phrases to fill the void between sports and entertainment. Ultimately, I ask myself this- what would it mean for me if I am here when things fall apart?

I told her not to worry because worrying would get her nowhere. It was interesting for me to tell this to a woman well into her 70s, but it was all I had. I told her that her apartment was in a safe, diverse neighborhood, and ultimately no one would benefit from hurting her, no matter how bad it got. I told her I wasn’t scared, and that millions of Lebanese survived even the worst of times here. She said thank you, and went back to her table.

I tried to concentrate on my reading, but I was at a loss. I couldn’t put my finger on where I was hiding my own fear, or what I have done to diffuse it. At the end of the day, I think my ultimate belief that everything happens for a reason is what keeps me sane. I have never found utility in contemplated fear- the natural gut instinct to flee danger is the only fear I trust. I have not felt that here. I hope I never do.

Bread Republic

I wouldn’t call Bread Republic a “hidden gem.” Those who should be “in the know” seem to know its flavors and charms well. Located on Hamra Street around the corner in an alley, Bread Republic livens a broad cobblestone ally with good food, good drinks, and pleasant service.

To my knowledge, Bread Republic has no indoor seating. Tables dot the ally while a door leads into a bakery where a variety of bread is made. I assume beyond that lays the kitchen. Two wine coolers chill a variety of red and white, and they also offer a selection of unique cocktails. Their coffee is good, as are their lemonades and juices.

I have visited Bread Republic for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and so far have been impressed by their purist approach to food- simple dishes featuring well seasoned, fresh quality ingredients . The breakfast menu features tasty omelets, some featuring unique Lebanese ingredients such as akoub, a spiny thistle well written about in a new favorite blog of mine.

I also enjoy a variety of their brushetta dishes. My favorite is a crusty toast served with a thick layer of lebneh (strained yogurt that has a rich cheesy feel) piled high with fresh oregano. I also was delighted by an arugula, prosciutto and shaved parmesan plate. This evening for dinner I had the pleasure of falling in love with a risotto topped with delicious wild mushrooms and thick slices of artichoke and the delicate taste of fresh lemon.

I have no doubts that Bread Republics free wireless, lovely breezy location and consistently good, satisfying food will keep luring me in on my way home...