
Coffee house before work - OK. Coffee house instead of work - priceless!
It's hard to be a hater with a plate full of pasrty.
Eggplant - The Mediterranean veggie.
What is Mediterranean? Mediterranean means having a way with eggplant, being hospitable, having a grandmother who makes incredible pastries: it's about coffee, friendship, and not working too hard. Mediterranean is the essence of the good life. And, yet. . .
The current Middle East situation reminds me of the Tom Lehrer song, "National Brotherhood Week." OK, now I've shown my age, but stay with me: How do Middle Easterners hate one another? - let me count the ways! Believe me, it's nowhere near as simple as "The Jews and Arabs hate each other." If this was alphabet soup, you would run out of Vs and Ss: Sunni vs. Shia, Muslim vs.Christian, Fatah vs. Hamas, Palestinian vs. Israeli, Israeli vs Israeli (a class unto itself: as in Ashkenaz vs. Sephardi, Haredi vs. secular, Haredi vs. Modern Orthodox, sabra vs. immigrant, peacenik vs. settler, etc., etc., etc.), Hezbollah vs. Lebanon - it just goes on and on. What goes on here? I think the problem is that the Middle-East has neglected to get its Mediterranean on.
After all, what do Israel, Lebanon, Gaza, Egypt, not to mention Turkey, Greece, Italy, Spain, Morocco, to name a representative sample, have in common? They are all on the Mediterranean. They are Mediterranean. By now, some of my non-Mediterranean readers may be feeling left out. I can just hear the Brits inquiring, "We have Gibraltar. Close enough?" And of course, where do all those more Northern Europeans head on holiday? Bari, Malta, Crete, Barcelona, Beirut, Haifa, Tunis - they head to the Mediterranean.
You can get your Mediterranean on, too. Here's a few thoughts to get you started:
1. Talk with your hands. Shrug. Just be expressive.
2. Call everyone by an endearment. It doesn't matter which one - habibi, motek, cara mia - just use it. And - smile when you say that.
3. Invite people to your house. And beg them not to show up to early. Early is so, so Teutonic. Note: When visiting the non-Mediterraneanly-informed, you may have to ease up on this charming non-punctuality, since it can be anxiety provoking for Germans, Yekkies*, and Presbyterians. Be "polite" (air quotes) - limit your lateness to 5 or 10 minutes.
3.1 More about visiting - don't show up empty handed. On the other hand don't show up the host. Flowers, wine, or chocolate would be a good place to start.
3.2 Back to being the host: Feed those people! And, no, breaking open a package of Maurice Lennel pinwheels or Mallomars with instant coffee will not cut it. At minimum, something cold to drink, something warm to drink, fruit, and a homemade pastry are required. Pastry from your small neighborhood bakery counts. Pastry from your grandmother is even better. You could even "borrow" a grandmother - get to know that nice old Lebanese lady down the street.
3.3 Now you're cooking! So, you'll need to learn to cook. For starters, simmer garlic cloves in olive oil to give your home the authentic smell. Learn various pasta shapes and cultivate a favorite. (note: Chef Boyardee is grounds for excommunication!) Only make your own pastry if you are good at it - otherwise buy - see 3.2 above) Add cardamom to desserts, cumin to main courses. Don't forget about eggplant, as well as peppers, fennel, olives, figs, etc.
4. Work hard (but not too hard!) in the morning, take an afternoon nap, and relish the nighttime.
5. Argue all you want, but hug your friend afterward, calling him/her by your chosen term of endearment (see 2 above).
6. Work on doing nothing. Dolce far niente! Do not, I repeat, do not take your laptop to the coffee house. Stretch out with a newspaper, take in the street scene, and stay put for at least half an hour.
Finally, a suggestion for all of us with a Mideast connection, whether near or far from your sunny homeland: in your own neighborhood, identify with your group - "I am Lebanese", "I am Israeli", "I am Sunni", "I am Christian", "I am a sabra", "I am Palestinian", etc. When out in the world, say, "I am Mediterranean." Be Mediterranean. It is an identity anyone can love. Especially with coffee & a baklava.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
* Yekkies are German Jews from Frankfurt. They are famously, or notoriously, punctilious. I suppose this footnote might even be Yekkish - ooops!
Awesome plan. I love the Mediterranean, especially the hand language and I sometimes take spoonfuls of olive oil because it tastes great. Let's have a Kebabs for peace week. Or a Pita Sandwich piece plan.
Let's get our Mediterranean on!
You forgot the cheek pinching.
My mothers side of the family is Italian. There is always a lot of cheek pinching.
My grandmother was Lebanese and my grandfather was Italian. I've got one HELL of an extended family (everyone in my age group is a "cousin", and I've got hundreds...) I've grown up eating *very* well...particularly at holidays. There was a time when people thought my food was weird, but not anymore. When I show up for a party with home made hummus, people are stoked. (If they're lucky enough to throw a party around the time I've made stuffed grape leaves, they're ecstatic.)
All this talk about food reminds me: I've got home made salami drying in the basement...it should be just about ready by this weekend...I better get some good cheese.
Love this article Miss J...
You can get your Mediterranean on, too.
And I do! As a resident of the western hemisphere's 33rd parallel - home of the CA Mediterranean climate.
On the eastern side of the Adriatic sea, besides the inevitable 2-3 hours long coffee drinking and being generally lazy there is another specific custom.
When you are sitting at a cafe, comment on everyone passing by. If you're a woman say: "That one has awful shoes. My dog has more style than that!", if you're a man say: "Look at that weener's hair, he looks like a cow sat on his head.". :)
And remember, always make fun of everyone and anything. :)
Very nice article.
Nice, Miss J. Also mandatory are:
You forgot eating from family members' plates and forcing every non-Mediterranean at the table to "just try a little bit", even if they are allergic to it.
When you clean your plate that means you have room for more.
And when you don't clean your plate, you're just not trying hard enough.
Indian and Mediterranean culture has a lot in common, it seems... :-)
Great going Miss J! Eggplant forever! Along with a little shwarma and pita... some good strong coffee with a touch of cardamom. And lots of hands flying around the table.
Say Hey Miss J
I grew up in a Syrian-influenced house (my maternal grandparents were from Damascus) ...
As to Point #5 (Argue)
Among your invited guest will be family members ... So, at some point during the dinner, or post dinner, you and a family member must break into a ferocious argument over something trivial - from who got a better parking space, to who got the oriental rug when so-and-so died - over 20-years ago ... Nothing is to small to have a screaming, invective-laced shouting match, and, all the better if it drifts between English and Syrian ... Your other invited guests will be thoroughly entertained and, possibly, put in the position to take sides and/or offer comment, or validate a point ...
And for the days following, grudges are to be held, tightly ... Ripe to be brought up and rehashed at the next gathering ...
Peace
JTD
Miss J
And extra, extra points for banning someone from the funeral ...
Peace
JTD
Or, better yet, refusing to go to the funeral because of something stupid they did 50 years ago, saying that you will spit on their grave, and actually making the spitting motion.
I lived in Andalusia for 9 months several years ago while teaching English at a shipyard in Cadiz. Best 9 months of my life! *sigh*
Ahhhhh....terrific article! Now I'm hungry and I have the travel bug! Good work!
How to LIVE!!!...a somewhat surprise to me the first time I went to the Caribbean and noticed that the shops aren't opened at 8:00am sharp....shops really open at around 10:00 am...and a bitter faux paux to be shopping at a too early and indecorous time, or rather far too hot time of early afternoon, as it's now siesta time. Shops reopen around 4:00pm to a refreshed and rested employee, and shops stay open until around 8:00pm. At which time it's time to meander home, preferably first to stop by a local bar or restaurant for the inevitable cocktail. Dinner served around 10:00pm, after which liquors are on call, after which bedtime strolls its way somewhere around 1-2:00am.
And that, my friends is everyday life, NOT the hussel bussel that we proscribe to here.....hardly a comparison. Thanks for writing the article and reminding me of the life we all should be living and bringing back great memories.
Here's to the heart of civilization *clink*
Forest
There's something I noticed in Italy which I think is wonderful. There is a complete disregard for the letter of the law. The law is something to use as a general guideline - an arrow pointing somewhat in the direction you might want to follow. The spirit of courtesy and consideration for others, however, is very strong.
We drove from Cannes (where we'd been marooned by the frankly atrocious French train system) to Sienna. The traffic in France was all "beep!! get back to the right place!!! Beep!! I have right of way!! Beep!! If I cut you off here you'll miss three sets of lights, sucker, and I'm *within my rights to do so*!!!
The traffic in Italy was no less chaotic but it was all "why don't we *all* line up here across the intersection and have a fun race to the other side?" and "You don't mind if I triple park do you? Just cross those double lines and you can get past!" It was great. The classic situation was where one lane going one way and two going the other ran past a supermarket. The only loading bay was regularly parked out (illegally) so semi trailers would block the single lane (double lines in between that and the two lanes coming the other way) and just park there while they unloaded. In france the first person behind the truck would be stuck there beeping helplessly and getting high blood pressure. If he tried to dodge around the truck he'd find drivers in the other direction moving into the middle lane to prevent him, and shaking their fists at him for punishment.
In Italy no one slowed down. All the traffic coming up behind the truck swerved around it, blind, into the middle lane and trusted that the people coming the other way would size up the situation and pull over to the left lane to leave them room. *And they all did. Every time.* We passed this spot about twice a day for a week and it was like that every single time. The world was harmonious. Everyone benefitted. No one had to get up on their high horse and enforce the rules. Live and let live and the best traditions of anarchy!!
In France every minor official had their little badge on and was enjoying the power to stop people do things. In Italy every minor official took a little palm greasing (no doubt) but their attitude was that we all had to get on somehow.
Disclaimer: (Zaki are you listening?) This represents *my* experiences in France not the nature of France as a whole, and we met some truly lovely warm people there!
Hah. Great. It's the same here. Every 3 weeks or so I see a traffic cop. He's the guy with the whistle, and no gun. He blows the whistle, you slow down a bit, and wave. he smiles. Everyone smiles.
I like Turkey already!
I have met two wonderful generous heart-living people from Turkey and it makes me think the place must be pretty special Dennis. And that's not counting you!!
Yeah, it's really great here. And from the article above, it sounds like the whole Mediterranean area is like this.
People ask me from time to time if I miss living in America. Ya know, there are some things I miss, of course, but overall I wish I had come here 20 years ago.
Check out this Turkish food article. What do you think?
Djehuty, your comment brought back fond memories of Italy. I spent some time there in the 70's and 80's as a GI. What times! If you didn't give a shop keeper the exact amount, he would look in his cash till, shrug his shoulders, smile profusely, and keep all you gave him. I remember that a yellow light at an intersection meant "step on the gas," and a red light meant you honked your horn before blasting through. One night down it Bari (yeah, the Adriadic Sea, not the Mediteranian, but close enough), I ran into some Italian GI's in a bar. None of us could speak the others language. But after a hard night of drinking we were all carrying on like long lost buddies who understood each other perfectly.
And the young ladies... ahem... If I told you how many times I got lucky just by saying "scusi, mi sono persosa" (I'm digging deep into the memory banks here...) in my very worst broken Italian, you probably wouldn't believe me. Even now I'm blushing...
A simple life... I could use that again....
Things of the heart are the only important things, eh Jim? Our friend Rose is the perfect example (her family are from southern Italy). Every time we meet her it's "Aaah! My lovely friends! Come in!!" So warm and beautiful.
Things of the heart are the only important things...
Indeed....
scusi, mi sono persosa
Hey Jim what does this mean? Is it a magic phrase that works in Bari?
That'd be: Scusi, Mi sono smaritto, Or
Scusi, mi sono perso.
But of course saying something a bit wrong with a foreign accent is a great way to pick up girls anywhere. :))
In France every minor official had their little badge on and was enjoying the power to stop people do things.
Sounds like the Germans.
(yeah, the Adriadic Sea, not the Mediteranian, but close enough)
Jim, actually, the Adriatic Sea is a part of the Mediteranian.
Great piece Miss J! I can almost smell the kabobs right down to the slightly blackened tomato pinched between two juicy cube cuts of lamb sizzling over an open flame. I think there is something magical in the grape leaves and the grape juice all around the Med that has more than once tempted me to trade it all in to become a well-tanned fisherman from Larnaca.
As a kid I was the "dear little eggplant" and I'll spare you my phonetic spelling of that family endearment. Thanks for the article!
actually kashk-bademjan but it's not exactly Med food though it is quite delicious. The farsi may be a giveaway.
Everything in this article sounds great, except for the eggplant part. I can't eat eggplant, it's a dealbreaker.
Throw two big eggplants in the coals of a fire. Leave them there until they're mushy. Peel. Add tahini lemon juice, garlic, cumin, a little olive oil. Have I missed anything? Food of the gods!
Throw two big eggplants in the coals of a fire. Leave them there until they're mushy. Peel. Add tahini lemon juice, garlic, cumin, a little olive oil. Have I missed anything? Food of the gods!
And parsley too!
Hmm. Well I could try a little zuchini. Djehuty does manage to make it sound pretty good, maybe my dislike of eggplant has more to do with my mother's cooking then the eggplant itself. Eggplant isn't exactly a common dish where I live.
@dreaming:
Most people don't know how to prepare eggplant. It should be drained prior to cooking by sprinkling it with salt then pressing it and letting it sit. Otherwise it'll have a bitter taste.
Eggplant isn't exactly a common dish where I live.
I know what you mean. I grew up in Chicago, where I ate eggplant maybe twice in the first forty years of my life.
Now, I eat it often. My wife does miraculous things with eggplant.
gettin the Mediterranean groove on indeed!
the nut, seed and chickpea obsession are also important Med faves! Hummus and seeds/nuts of all varieties are always available as pre-snacks for guests..along with babaghanoush & pita of course. a little turkish coffee with cardimon and the essence of the eastern Med is well-represented.
we could all learn a thing or two about the flavor, essence and hospitality of the Mediterranean experience for sure. great article. just visited Jordan, and now back living in Israel, ohhh I will miss the yummy treats here.
As a teenager, my sister worked at a Greek restaurant. She loved it - it was like having two families. There were drawbacks however. The owners/surrogate parents, especially the wife, were always convinced that she was starving to death and would try to feed her at every opportunity...disaster for a high school-age girl! She would accept their food and bring it home where I would reap the benefits. Grape leaves! Baklava! Lamb! I sweated out olive oil for about 4 years.
Imagine a Greek-Italian family. You would be in danger of being fed to death.
All that hate! How to explain it? Pure and simple, eggplant. Anyone who's been fed eggplant by their mother has to hate life, and from hating life, it's just a small step to hating your neighbor.
There goes the eye of the beholder! All that love!
I've never acquired a taste for eggplant but I'm still trying eggplant dishes out because I'm sure there are some I would like.
My mother used to can eggplant every summer so she could eat eggplant sandwiches all year round. I never got used to eating it because of that. Canned eggplant (Ball jars actually) makes lab specimens look appetizing.
OTOH kimchi is yummy.
Brain Food
Research on eggplant has focused on an anthocyanin phytonutrient found in eggplant skin called nasunin. Nasunin is a potent antioxidant and free radical scavenger that has been shown to protect cell membranes from damage.
Just think what you are missing :) I take this opportunity to nominate it as the official Newsvine vegetable for its contributions toward "getting smarter here."
Kimchi? Good stuff! Lots of vitamins, lots of flavor, lots of seoul! Back when I was living on a dollar a day, ramen with a big dollop of kimchi saved my life.
As far as I can tell, eggplant has none of that stuff that makes kimchi so good. Somehow, it is a plant devoid of either flavor or nutritional value.
Back when I was living on a dollar a day,
What instrument do you play?
Sadly, I don't play any. It's a big gap in my life.
I was sort of catching on to the guitar when I got a pinched nerve in my elbow that forced me to quit, and I haven't really managed to pick up anything else since then. I have a trombone, but haven't worked practicing into my schedule.
One other thing. Good eggplant is white and egg shaped, hence the name. It was bred to be purple so shipping bruises wouldn't be visible.
That's a mighty challenge. I'm going to have to let it stew for a while before I can even decide if I'm up to it. My own pride won't let me turn in anything inadequate, so you may not get anything back.
another great article, Miss J. Bubblewrap needs you for your vibes. come join us.
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