"Those who forget the pasta are condemned to reheat it." ~Unknown

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Misted From Our Minds

Sometime this summer we began to talk about were we wanted to go on an international trip this spring. At first the front runners were Peru and India, I didn't want to go to either of those places and was advocating Greece. Slowly Peru then India fell out of contention as possible travel destinations. As a compromise between India and Greece Mom had suggested a few days in Spain then Morocco. Sounded good to all of us, so although we have yet to buy tickets, we plan to take a trip to Spain and Morocco this summer or spring. In anticipation of the coming trip I've decided to make a Moroccan dish for dinner tonight.
The dish in question is a well spiced, lemon infused, Moroccan chicken. Moroccan culture and cuisine is widely influenced by most of the Mediterranean. With it's native Berber cuisine absorbing the influences of Andalusia and the Moors, the Turks, Jews and Arabic cuisines, a Moroccan meal promises to be a wide infusion of all Mediterranean tastes. For side dishes we have hummus and pita bread and couscous and a salad.

Cy is sick, so Dad took him to get checked out. The cooking is coming to a head. The preserved lemons, olives and wine are in with the onions and pita bread is toasting in the oven. Chicken broth is melting in the microwave. (Dad makes home made Chicken broth and freezes it.) We are starting the salad and the couscous should follow soon.

I just accidentally put way to much chicken broth in the main pot. If only Dad was here to help. But he's with Cy who's getting an ultrasound, Cy might have appendicitis. The salad is on the table and everything else is on it's way. The pita bread is taking turns warming up in the oven while the couscous liquid, a quarter of which is the extra broth, is heating up on the stove. Any minute now we will be ready to eat.
The chicken is almost ready and the smells wafting through the house are amazing, so thick you can taste them. I bet they could cure Cy no matter how sick he is. The chicken is ready. Dinner is served!

The couscous was both excellent and amazing. One moment I was poring it into an immense amount of water and broth. The next I glanced over and the lid of the pot was being physically lifted by the couscous. The chicken was excellent and lemony. And I probably toasted the pita to long. As we ate you could almost see the great white canvas of a Berber tent building around us. Then the phone rang and our canvas sheets fell to the ground and misted from our minds. Turns out Cy doesn't have appendicitis. We returned to our plates and the wonderful flavors of North Africa.

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