Dr. N.A.N.’s Blog
News, views, and how the world skews from Lincoln, NebraskaArchive for Food
Margaritaville
Ahhhhhh, back in the land of warmth and margaritas. I love coming home. For me, home is peaceful and warm–year round. Home means really fresh tortillas, balmy temperatures, the world’s best salsa and the reassuring sound of my parents’ old clocks.
On this visit, I am really busy. I am meeting with music students at the University of Texas at Austin to share with them my “Piano-in-Tow” experiences, giving an evening performance with Daniel Bernard Roumain for the 180 Group as well as a mid-day presentation at Sul Ross Middle School. All of this activity will probably interfere with my visit to my favorite nursery–Hill Country African Violets. HCAV has one of the biggest selections of African Violets that I have ever seen. They have dedicated a very large greenhouse entirely to violets. And, then of course, there are the rooms in another building where the proprietor propagates new plants…I will also miss the opportunity to visit the gravesite of a former colleague of my father’s. Many years ago, we started a tradition of visiting this gentleman’s grave whenever I am in San Antonio. Part of the tradition is to drive the old green Mercedes out to a cemetery just east of Boerne, TX. 
Better than ketchup
I have promised several Nebraska friends that I will bring back jars of La Fogata’s Roasted Salsa. As far as we are concerned, it is the best salsa available! My mouth is watering just thinking about it…
Anatomy of a collaborative experience
Craig backstage of Kimball Recital Hall and one of his 3 (!) tubas.
Besides the leaves turning and the temperature dropping, fall always means a tuba recital. Craig Fuller and I have been playing together since I arrived at UNL in 1995. Craig is part of the low brass faculty at the School of Music where he teaches euphonium and tuba. I remember the first time we played together–the director at the time sent me an email telling me that Craig was looking for a collaborative pianist and would I please step up to the job. I remember being annoyed because I didn’t want to play for a TUBA player. I was hoping to collaborate with a visiting bassoon player who had a big reputation coming from an important music school on the east coast. Alas, I was not given that assignment but instead was told to play with Craig.
Well, that was 14 years ago and Craig and I have played at least one recital every year with few exceptions. We have covered the tuba repertoire as well as many pieces that Craig “borrowed” from other genres. He has lifted French horn repertoire, voice repertoire (Brahms, Beethoven–An die ferne Geliebte, Schumann, Wagner), oboe music, Bach viola da gamba sonatas–you name it, we have probably either played it or at least considered playing it! What’s amazing about Craig is that when he plays the tuba, it doesn’t sound like a tuba. Well, I guess it always sounds like a tuba but he can play with the speed and accuracy and lightness one would expect from a flute. This man can even execute trills on the tuba!
Last night, Craig and I played yet another recital at Kimball Recital Hall. Click here
Craig Fuller - Tuba Recital
for a blow-up of the program. After it was done, Craig made a very wise observation. He said that as much fun as it is for us to perform together, our rehearsals are even more fun. I have to agree with him. Our rehearsals are often filled with laughter, gossip and silliness. And, we have an understanding–Craig always brings the coffee and chocolate. No rehearsal is complete without these two things.
For the next several weeks, I know I’ll keep checking my calendar looking for my rehearsal schedule with Craig only to be disappointed because the fun has come to an end. Of course, until next year…
Amy, my student and expert page turner
The Other Kind of Green
You know, it isn’t easy being a vegetarian. I guess it’s kinda like Kermit being green. I made the decision to go meat-less in 1992. I still remember the conversation I had with a couple from Springfield, Missouri. They didn’t set out to change my carnivore habits but simply explained to me why eating vegetables was a better choice. In the 16 years that I haven’t eaten meat, I have eaten some fowl and I continue to eat fish (fish feed themselves). I could never give up dairy products or eggs (my “world’s best chocolate chips” wouldn’t taste the same if I didn’t use eggs or butter). For me, being a vegetarian is a personal choice. I don’t expect anybody else to adopt my lifestyle choice. The only problem is that my cats refuse to join me in my meat-free diet. They insist on eating chicken and turkey and one of them even likes pork products! What is a mother to do?
I love almost all vegetables with the exception of zucchini. I have hated zucchini since I was a little girl. My mother still doesn’t understand why. I think it is the bitter taste that the nasty vegetable leaves in my mouth. I remember when she would serve her famous zucchini boats (even the mere thought of them makes me cringe), I would look for ways to “dispose” of my portion without her knowledge. I spent many an evening waiting for her to leave the kitchen so I could quietly dump the boat in the trash.
I do like zucchini bread so go figure…
Did you know that eggplant in Arabic is zaalook?
That chickpeas in French are poi chiches?
That the word for chocolate is almost universally the same?
That fried tofu is actually very tasty?
A Florida tradition
Every summer, my family and I spend a week in the panhandle area of Florida. We have been coming to Fort Walton Beach for 30+ years to drink margaritas or mojitos or whatever the adult beverage du jour is, walk on the white sand beach and generally do nothing. Sometimes we get lucky and the weather is sunny throughout the week and sometimes we aren’t so lucky. Since we always come at the end of the summer, our visit coincides with the hurricane season. Perhaps not the best planning but it’s tradition.
Our holiday always includes a trip to Nick’s Fish Camp, an unassuming bar/restaurant on the edge of the Basin Bayou. Nick’s is home of the “fried-fried”. This term was coined by my long-time friend Randy A. when he was describing a particular dish at another favorite restaurant of mine in San Antonio. I think Nick’s motto should be: “If it ain’t fried, it ain’t worth eatin’”. Highlights of the menu include fried shrimp, fried oysters, fried fish, fried hush puppies and of course, the ubiquitous French fries. A side order of coleslaw is available. I think the coleslaw is Nick’s attempt to round out the food pyramid. Another food tradition that we observe in Florida is the seven-layer bar. My Aunt Joanna always favors me (and my sister) with a pan of these thunder-thigh confections during our visit. Imagine a multi-layer pan cookie with a graham cracker crust and chocolate, butterscotch, coconut, pecan and condensed milk heaped on top which is baked to a gooey treat. 
Another tradition that we enjoy is the company of guests that join us for the week. We have had friends visit from all over the country and world! Although the accomodations at this condo complex aren’t exactly Hotel de Crillon, we do offer the basics–cable tv, pool, laundry and pizza delivery. We rely on our guests to entertain us so if you come, be prepared to tell us stories, take us kite-flying, deep-sea fishing or anything else that will keep us occupied.
A Circumcision Parade
While still in Marrakech, my parents and I spent several hours going through the main Souk (Arabic market). We started off in the town square (or what I think was the town square) which comes alive around 6pm every night. The square itself was congested with people selling stuff. There were snake charmers, henna artists, junk dealers, pastry makers, penny whistle musicians—you name it. And although I loved being immersed in the frenetic energy created by so many people, I was happy to enter the more organized part of the market.
I still haven’t figured out if this part of the market was part of a building or just had a tarp for a roof but merchants offered their wares from booths. Each booth was probably no more than 10 feet wide and 15 feet long so accommodations were cramped. It seemed that each vendor specialized in one product or variations on a product. One gentleman was selling dates and raisins and dried figs –apparently, there are many varieties of dates and thus many different “price points”. I’m not a big fan of dates so I wasn’t overcome with emotion at the sight of them. However, when we came upon a booth selling Arabic pastries. I sensed a quiver of excitement emanate from my father. He had discovered a booth selling a rich selection of pastries (mostly fried, light dough, sweetened with honey) similar to the ones he used to eat as a little boy while living in Constantine, Algeria.
Between the two of us, I think we picked out one of each kind! What makes these pastries so unique is that they are made with no preservatives and sweetened only with honey. Some of them have nuts, others just fried dough sprinkled with powdered sugar. A lot of them have sesame seed paste or marzipan fillings. (My mouth is watering as I write this.) Typical of my father, he carefully doled these confections out over the next several days, not wanting them to disappear at the hands of others.
OK, so we finally made it through the Souk (not before we were given a half hour rug presentation by Mohammed, a master salesman) and found ourselves outside once again. Suddenly, we all hear this wonderful upbeat music coming from behind us accompanied by a lot of singing and clapping. We turned around to find a processional of musicians followed by a man and little boy on top of a horse that had been all decked out in equestrian finery. My mother asked our guide what was all the fuss about and Anas explained that this was a post-circumcision celebration for the little boy astride the horse. The man was his father and one of the woman on the ground was his mother. Apparently, the little boy (probably 3 years old) had been circumcised that morning and as was tradition, given his own little parade as the sun went down. Ouch.
More Songs About Buildings and Food
PARIS — Today, I was able to spend some “me” time along the rue Saint Louis en l’Isle. This street is part of one of the islands in the Seine, sort of in the middle of the city. I came to know this street (and the island) when my family and I used to rent an apartment here. To me, this street has some of the most amazing shops in Paris. The best ice cream and sorbet can be found at Berthillon, whose primary location is on the island. Even in the middle of winter, you will find a line that circles around the block–people patiently waiting to buy some of their amazing confections. (Perhaps akin to the line outside of Target when Wiis became available.)
A little further down, there is a tea room called La Charlotte de l’Isle. The owner is a chocolate artist of the first order. When you walk in, you are greeted by the rich smell of dark chocolate. She makes all kinds of figurines, cakes, cookies, and other structures from chocolate. Occasionally, she’ll add in candied fruit or almonds. The reason for my visit today was to pick-up a pièce monter for a party. I learned that pièce monter means something that is built in stages. So, the creation was tall, with each “floor” made from almond cookie dough rolled thin, baked and then molded to form half cylinders. The occasional section was dipped in chocolate. (If I were faced with a “last meal”, a pièce monter would be my request!) Besides ordering a piece of pièce, we frequently will stop in for chocolat chaud. This hot chocolate is NOT made from Nestlés powder — instead, our hostess melts chunks of chocolate with cream or half and half, and then serves it with a side of water.Also along this street is my favorite jewelry store. Thelma isn’t a store where you would go to buy a diamond, but a lot of the jewelry is handmade with crystals and other semi-previous stones. Without fail, I visit the shop once per trip to Paris and inevitably I buy something.If you keep walking down the street, it opens up into a bridge that connects the two islands. Cross the bridge and you are at the back of Notre Dame. Today, the tour line was too long so I just stood outside and took some pictures. I did go into another church (much smaller and less ornate) along the same street to light a candle. Similar to visiting Thelma, I always try to visit one church to light a candle. Thought it’s gotten to be such an expensive habit that I no longer light a candle for everyone on my prayer list– one has to suffice.Art on Everything
PARIS – Today we took a long walk in search of a particular patisserie that was recommended to us on Rue Monge. The day was picture-perfect. While crossing the Pont Sully, the backside of Notre Dame was visible, there were house boats on the river, pigeons everywhere, bicyclists (seems like everyone rides them now) and zillions of scooters. (Scooters have become a mild interest of mine because I have friends who both have Vespas.)
The bakery was about 2 miles from our apartment, and since we hit it early afternoon, it was teeming with people. Some of their specialties include small rolls stuffed with bacon and smothered in parmesan cheese. They also offer a number of “escargot” pastries (snail-shaped) featuring chocolate or cinnamon. I was finally able to feast upon a sandwich au camenbert–yum. On our way home, we stopped at another bakery whose store window practically demanded we come in–the number of unique pastries and tartes and cakes were overwhelming.
And each one of them was a work of art in miniature. How do they make this stuff? My mother and I “discussed” various cooking techniques but couldn’t agree!
I ended up with a “chunk” of almond cake, a chocolate macaroon (for those of you who still think the traditional macaroon has coconut, think again) and some other heavenly confection exploding with more chocolate.
I really shouldn’t be eating with such abandon. I will pay for every calorie when I get home!
We also stopped at an Italian deli where we picked up some gnocchi stuffed with truffles, a mushroom (cepes) salad and a salad of fava beans, parsley and olive oil. (Anybody have any chianti?)
When will this gorging end? I can’t seem to stop and I am here for 8 more days. It’s as if I have been programmed to try everything within my grasp. And if it isn’t within my grasp, I just move a little closer….
