Cherries with feta

Home.  

There are many ways to interpret where 'home' is.  For some people, it is where they live now, for others it is where they were born, where they grew up, or where their parent's live.  As for me, I am still not sure where 'home' is.  You see, I was born in Oklahoma, grew up in Oklahoma, and still live in Oklahoma.  But I have never felt that I belonged here.  As a kid, once a year my parents would take me with them to California, Florida, or Mexico once a year in the summertime for a little vacation.  I think at the time I was too young to appreciate being in those other places.  Of course, even by the time I was 8 years old I knew a good filet mignon from a bad one, but I was not yet able to appreciate any of the local foods and cultures.   

There were a few years in between our family vacations and my going to Europe for the first time.  Fortunately, I was much older (17 years old) and already completely food obsessed.  I remember almost everything I ate and how it all tasted.  I can remember just experiencing so much while I was there that I didn't want to leave.  I kept a journal to make sure that I never lost any of those memories and took photos as well.  Since then, I have enjoyed vacations in Montreal and Bulgaria, the latter being my most recent.  Bulgaria in the summertime is spectacular.  Their produce rivals even that of the freshest you could find at any farmers' markets in America.  The cities are so large and yet so compact that it only makes sense to walk the one or two miles to the restaurant that you will be having dinner at.  Everyday, our hotel rooms were stocked with cherries, apricots, and strawberries that were so sweet, juicy, and ripe.  Walking around the city, you will find the fruit stands just overflowing with fruit, the tables groaning under the weight, just begging you to come and buy some.  

I felt what they call 'culture shock' not when I entered Bulgaria, but when I came back to America.  They are such different lifestyles, and I feel even the same when returning from France, Italy, and Montreal. Those, to me, are where home is.  Those are the places that I have been happiest, and thankfully, I am able to visit them and pretend to live there, at least for a few days.

I know that you might think me crazy for finding inspiration from a hotel's breakfast buffet, but this hotel did things right.  Sure they had toast, bacon, and scrambled eggs, but they also had ruby red tomatoes, cucumbers, feta cheese, yogurt, and tons of fruit out every morning as well.  The second day that I had arrived at my house from the airport, I walked to the grocery store, for the first time, and bought a bag of cherries, among other things.  After a day or two of eating them as they were, I thought back to the breakfast buffet, and after a second of ice box rummaging, obtained a bit of feta. I took the pits out of the cherries and set the feta ontop of them and savored every bite.

Please, taste cherries before you buy them, as their ripeness and sweetness can vary vastly, especially when your only supplier is the super market.  When you have a bag of perfectly sweet and juicy cherries, I urge you to get ahold of some good feta (not the pre-crumbled kind, please) and marry the two in a bowl or on a plate of straight off of the kitchen counter.  It is sweet and salty, but in a very fresh and summery way.  

Dolmades

When in Rome.......or at least, that is how the saying begins.  

Like many other people, I love to travel- live, to travel, even.  Whether revisiting an old city or venturing to a new city, the excitement, planning, and memories mean more to me than I can express.  I have been very fortunate in my (near) 22 years of life to have been to several states and a few countries and traveled by car, bus, train, and plane.  I have enjoyed all of my trips immensely and for a multitude of reasons.  Take, for example, fresh fruit on hot summer mornings in Mexico, buying bread and wine in France, eating absurd amounts of velvety gelato in Italy, and even warming up with a big bowl of poutine in Montreal (google poutine, I dare you.  Rest assured that is isn't the most beautiful thing in the world, and, for some, even the description is off-putting, but after one bite you will be a slave to it.  You will seek it out.  You will go to a place called 'Frites Alors' and marvel at the menu that is comprised entirely of different versions of the stuff....I digress....)

As for 2008, I was to make my biggest trek across the globe yet.  Farther east than even Italy, to a place I had heard of many times from good friends, a country called Bulgaria.  On a lovely evening in Montreal, between my birthday (18) and my Mother's (50) we were sitting on the balcany of our hotel enjoying a beer and watching the sun set.  I went inside of the room, no doubt for another beer seeing as back in America, I was underage, and found that I had a message from my dear friend, Diana.  She had invited me to fly home with her to Bulgaria for the winter holidays to visit her family.  Now, by this time I had done most of the aforementioned traveling, so I was more than happy to add this to my list.  Naturally, I accepted and set off to plan my trip for Bulgaria while vacationing in Montreal.  Hurried phone calls were made, there was much  giggling, and my savings account was quickly diminishing, but how could I care?  I was going to spend not one, but two weeks in Bulgaria with some of the kindest people that I have ever met.  Diana had moved to another state, so the first hurdle was to fly to her from Oklahoma.  I had never flown before, but I was not afraid, infact, I was very excited.  I felt so grown-up.  

We stayed at her apartment for a day or so, packing and repacking, shopping, and more packing, but eventually making it to the airport and then to Bulgaria.  Our final destination was to be the capitol city, Sofia and what a city it is.  I honestly wish that I had remembered more about my trip, but it was such a whirl wind trip that most of what I remember was the food we ate, the people we met, and the many, many clubs that we went to.  One of my most fond memories was after a night of club hopping and chapped cheeks, arriving back to their parents' apartment early in the morning with Diana's younger sister.  After the rickety ride in the elevator, and unlocking the many locks to the front door, managing to somehow get off our snow encrusted boots, we would shuffle into the kitchen like school girls foraging for the makings of a midnight feast.  We did this on several occasions, and indeed, Diana's mother being the fantastic cook that she is, the ice box was always stuffed with that night's leftovers just for us.  One night, before Christmas, I believe it was, there was a massive pan on stuffed grape vine leaves.  We knew we shouldn't have, but we couldn't help our selves.  I went to the ice box for some yogurt, and Boriana for a plate and some vine leaves and together we feasted.  I had had vine leaves before, but never fresh and homemade.  These were such a joy to eat, and now, as I can say from experience, a joy to make as well.  Qutie simple to make, really, requiring little more than some cooked rice, sauteed onion, and then its fill, roll, and simmer.

112 grams grape leaves, packed in brine

1/3c. arborio (or other) rice

1/2c. finely chopped white onion

1 clove garlic, finely minced (or grated)

1/2c. minced tomatoes

2T. chopped pine nuts

zest & juice of half a lemon

1T. fresh* dill, chopped

2T. fresh* parsley, chopped

1T. fresh* mint, chopped

1T. olive oil, and more for cooking

-To begin, place the grape leaves into a bowl and pour over freshly boiled water.  Let this set for 20 minutes, then drain and repeat with tepid water. 

-Meanwhile, cook the rice in a small pan using a ratio of one part rice to two parts water. Bring the water to a boil, and then cover and simmer for 15-20 minutes.

-In a saute pan, saute the onion, tomatoes, and garlic until they begin to color and soften.  

-Combine the vegetables with the rice in a bowl and add the pine nuts, lemon components, and herbs.  Stir to combine.

-Now is time for the rolling:  take a grape leaf and place it on a surface (I am quite fond of a wooden cutting board) with the 'shiny' side facing down.  Cut out any stems, if neccessarry.  Place a reasonable amount(1-2 teaspoons) of the rice mixture on the widest part of the leaf and then roll as if you were making spring rolls or a burrito, rolling part of the way, tucking in the sides, and finish rolling.  When you have finished a roll, place it into a flame resistant pot.  (The only thing about this pot that you need to make sure of is that you have a place that will fit into the pot to hold down the rolls while they cook.)  Continue rolling and 'potting' the dolmades until you have run out of leaves, rice, or both.  Place the aforementioned plate directly over the dolmades, and cover with water and the olive oil.  Bring this to a boil and simmer for 40-45 minutes.  Let them cool in the broth (store in this broth as well).