Morri in Malta

It’s hard to begin again after such a long hiatus. Graduate school, for lack of better words, is done. All I have left is the internship credits I will be completing in Malta and four more class credits I will complete online or as independent study. 

Malta goes all out around Christmastime

Meals with Morri, I am sad to say, was put on hold. The fall semester was freaking hard. At midterms, I just couldn’t focus. I had to give up a day of work just to have those three extra hours I didn’t have. My social life and my academic studies were greatly reduced because of recurring anxiety attacks and exhaustion. I didn’t rock climb. I didn’t do Insanity. I didn’t make recipes. I didn’t write. But I did get through it with A’s, and yes, it was worth bearing through.

So now I am in Malta for the 2014 year. I have an apartment near where I work. I spent quality time with Mama Dazz for the first ten days while I finished my finals. And for anyone who decides it is a good idea to move halfway across the world and finish three finals at the same time… seriously reconsider. 

Malta is so different than Virginia: an island so compacted with people and history and streets it is easy to get overwhelmed. The culture is vibrant and intimate: everyone knows everyone. The buildings are named, and directions are based on localized markers that only the people who have lived here all their lives could possibly know. And the people are quite possibly the friendliest and most accommodating I have ever met. 

As anyone with health concerns and dietary preferences can tell you, there is more to preparing for a trip than just buying the plane ticket or hotel room. There’s this physical dread of whether or not you will be able to eat anything substantial, whether or not people will understand – let alone know – what ‘[allergen] free’ is. There’s medication and supplements to have the pharmacy pack. There’s the insurance company to talk with about prescription travel overrides. There’s research on restaurants and nearby supermarkets to confirm, and whether or not the plane’s meal options are exactly what you can eat. It can be a downright terrifying experience, and you haven’t even boarded the plane yet.  

But Malta is different. The Mediterranean concept of food – simple, wholesome, and adaptable – reigns supreme here. In a place where a marathon is longer than the country is and the next city is literally next to the one you are in, the term ‘local’ is serious business. Small and specialized markets are found at practically every street corner and parking lot. Depending on the time of day, a produce truck will come by with their freshly picked fruits and vegetables to sell. Orange trees are common sights, and it takes every ounce of my being to not pluck one from someone’s yard to eat something with all of its richness still intact.

Perhaps it’s the feeling that I’ve left behind all the stress, but I cannot believe how many posts I want to write: how to search for gluten free items in a new country; how to turn gluteny Maltese favorites into gluten free delights; my experiences regarding my internship in a conflict resolution perspective; rock climbing excursions; restaurant reviews and EU food policies; practicing and enhancing my photography technique; keeping in touch with the people back home and making new friends; and mainly, how Malta made this gluten freer feel welcomed, accepted, and a little more confident.

Naturally, gelato is everywhere.

Homemade Gnocchi (recipe still in the works)

I don’t know how often I’ll post, considering I’ve never really lived on my own or worked a forty-hour work week longer than a month or two before, but I am most certainly going to try to not let there be months in between. Luckily, I have CK to keep me company until after the holidays.

The Mediterranean Table: Tzatziki

It’s no secret: I love Mediterranean and Middle Eastern food. The only thing I love more than eating it is making it. I love the spices, the aromas, the textures, the colors, the different ways foods are prepared… Oh! I could go on and on. 

My father was born in Morocco on a U.S. Air Base, and maybe the idea that he was there for the first few years of his life had initially sparked my interest of the food around that area. While abroad I made friends with a lovely French-born Moroccan gentleman, who told hilarious stories and made a tagine (without the tagine) dinner I’ll never forget. I love how the majority of that region’s cuisine is naturally gluten free, or easily adapted to whatever your dietary restrictions are.

Tzatziki

8 oz Seedless cucumber, grated
16 oz Greek yogurt
15 Mint leaves, or 2 tsp. when put through the food processor
1/2 Medium white onion, finely chopped

Add the grated veggies and mint into a medium-sized bowl, stirring until completely mixed.
Fold in the yogurt with the vegetables.
Put in the fridge to chill up to an hour or overnight.

Serve as a garnish, a small salad, or a condiment.  

The Mediterranean Table: Tabouli

There was a time that the words "green" and "leafy" were terms I didn't want anything to do with in regards to food. As a kid I’d slather my dinner salad with ketchup or hot sauce, just to avoid the crunchy lettuce green underneath. I didn’t like sliced tomatoes, only in sauces or condiments. I liked raw celery, but only if there was something creamy on top. My parents had to literally hide vegetables in really creative ways just so I'd have a more balanced diet. This went on for years, even the months prior to becoming gluten free.

But I’m a different person; vegetables are Morri’s best friends. In fact, the Burt-man gripes how large the dinner salads I make are. At most, it’s three servings of veggies… maybe.

The best thing about salads is the creative license that comes with making them. You can put anything into it, from vegetables to fruits to nuts to protein to grains. They can be vegan, vegetarian, dairy free, and/or gluten free. They can be a starter to any meal, the meal itself, or a light snack in between. It’s a beautiful concept, really.

Whenever our favorite family friend comes to visit to talk shop about community conflict resolution, we always have a Mediterranean buffet on the dinner table with a smorgasbord of meats, breads, spreads, and veggies. Tabouli (or tabbouleh) was, for some reason or another, one of the few vegetable plates I actually enjoyed during my pre-evolved palate years. It was also one of the dishes I missed after going gluten free. But there’s a way to making it without the bulgur wheat among the parsley. Sure, you can just remove the bulgur wheat, but I think the salad would be lacking.

This is the beauty of quinoa. This South American seed is a wonderful substitution for the gluteny specks. Plus, it’s filled with protein-packed goodness with a mild taste that really enhances the overall flavor.

Quinoa Tabouli

Two bushels Parsley
1/2 Medium white onion, finely diced
2 c. Quinoa, cooked
1 c. Seedless cucumber, finely diced
16 oz Cherry tomatoes, quartered
1 tsp. Crushed garlic
13 Mint leaves put through the food processor, roughly 1 1/2 tsp.
1/3 c. Olive oil
1/6 c. Unrefined apple cider vinegar
1 Lemon, juiced
1/2 tsp. Sea salt
1/4 tsp. Pepper
1 – 2 tsp. Black sesame seeds

In a medium pot or rice cooker, cook the two cups of dry quinoa by the instructions on the box.
When the quinoa is done, set aside to cool.
Wash the bushel of parsley and drain of excess water, then pull the leaves off the stems.
Add the remaining ingredients in with the parsley, and fold in the quinoa (this salad is quinoa-heavy, so if you want the focus to be on the veggies, use half of the quinoa).
This can be served immediately or made ahead of time and put it the fridge to chill.

Serves 6 – 8 people as a side salad.

The Mediterranean Table: Hummus

It’s my first official week as a free woman. Free from studying and papers and campus life. Free from exams and classrooms and PowerPoint slides. Summer vacation is here, and everyone I know and love has gone back to their lives outside of school, where family and internships and summer jobs await them.

Last week was a medley of deep thoughts and philosophies. I kept thinking how I seemed so detached and isolated from my life back in the states since Sweden. I was invited to parties and other fun activities, but for some reason I didn’t end up going. I spent my weekends at home with the family instead of on campus. As awesome as my roommates were, they had their own lives to attend to and were rarely at the townhouse. The off campus housing community wasn’t as close-knit or as lively as I remember it being my first and second semesters at Mason. I spent the majority of this semester either at home, in the classroom, or alone with my thoughts.

As mentioned before, I was accepted to be part of a wonderful program this summer. The meeting held on Monday was quite intimidating, but a learning experience. For one, I am the youngest member of the team, and the only undergraduate among them. The rest are either entering the S/CAR Masters program, are in the Masters program, or on the road to earning a PhD. These people knew what they wanted to do with their degree, knew exactly their point of focus. And here I was, one semester shy of graduating, and life has so many options to choose from I’m getting lightheaded just thinking about it. But from this meeting I learned something about myself, something I didn’t realize to be a true-blue term for what I’ve been going through.

The term, my friends, is reverse culture shock.

There are two elements to defining reverse culture shock: one, an idealized view of home and two, the expectation of total familiarity (that nothing at home has changed while you have been away). Typically students coming home from being abroad are able to pick up from where they left off. Only when their reality is not meeting their expectations is there a problem. The four stages of RCS are disengagement, initial euphoria, irritability and frustration, then readjustment and adaptation. In a matter of nine months I had to move in and out of places seven times, so I don’t think I’ve felt settled since last summer. Much is changing, and friends are off in their own realities that seem farther away then they were a year ago. My outlet for my isolation and estrangement has been making meals for others. In the kitchen, as I prepare a bowl of this or a plate of that, I know that I’m important, that I matter. Cooking has been my way of feeling stable in a world that kept going after I left and came back.

Being abroad really shifted my priorities. I love traveling, and I still do, but I’m done with packing and unpacking every few months into another place. I want stability, a place that I (and a select few of my extended family) can call our own for as long as we wish. I’m done with my life being in boxes, of feeling like a part of me has been put on hold in my attempt to get back into the groove this side of the states grooves to.

This weekend I overexerted myself to feeling like a valuable part of the household by cooking, after three exams and moving out of the townhouse in a matter of hours. We had a close family friend stay with us, and I was determined to do my part to make her feel welcome. Since she is from the Mediterranean, we typically go to a bakery that supplies Mediterranean favorites: pita bread, hummus, baklava, and various teas. But I wanted to make some of the things we bought from scratch, just to see how it would turn out.

And let me tell you, homemade is always better than store-bought, especially when you make it gluten free.

These next few posts will give you a taste of what was on the dinner table on Friday, what was made fresh on Saturday, and what was still enjoyed on Sunday. The beauty about Mediterranean cuisine is how easy, refreshing, and filling meals can be.

Hummus

2 15 oz cans Garbanzo beans, drained of excess water
2 Lemons, juiced
2 tbsp. Olive oil
5 tbsp. Tahini
3 tbsp. Filtered water
1/4 tsp. Cumin
2 dashes Sumac
2 dashes Garlic powder
1/4 tsp. Pepper
Paprika and sesame seeds, for garnish

In a food processor (or blender), combine all the ingredients until thoroughly combined.
If you want it smoother, add more water or tahini.

Makes a heaping bowl of the stuff.