This week my gi tract has not been my best friend. Further descriptions of this were written, but are now erased; I easily forget what is considered acceptable conversation by most people. Suffice it to say that now everything stays in, but my stomach cramps whenever I eat. (On a side note, this is supposed to happen when I am in the African bush not in a city in the Midwest, US of A.) This means that my diet has been reduced to simple carbs. I thought I could enjoy this for a while. It makes food easy to prepare and I don’t have to feel bad about having toast for dinner. But the doc also said no dairy and to stay away from fiber.

This means that the pork tenderloins I bought are now in the freezer, that the spaghetti squash is uncooked, and the wonderful veggies from the farmer’s market remain in the drawer of my fridge. No spicy black beans or stir fried veggies. No fresh tomato sauce. The leftover pear apple cobbler from Sunday dinner remains uneaten.

Tonight I mixed up my diet and had white pancakes with syrup. No whole wheat pancakes with bananas and pecans.

Today I found a recipe for zucchini pear soup. I can’t wait to feel good again.

Tags: food, sick

After a dinner characterized by the use of fresh basil and plenty of wine with friends last night, we moved on to dessert. We had my blueberry-peach cobbler that is topped with finely chopped pecans, oats, brown sugar, honey, spices and a bit of butter. Of course served a-la-mode. As we were eating this (delicious) dessert, the Italian in our midst makes a comment about the American use of cinnamon. His thought was that it was overused and in nearly everything. When I said ‘spices’ earlier, I meant ginger, cloves, nutmeg, and plenty of cinnamon. That got me thinking.

I love cinnamon. It goes in my pancakes, banana bread, carrot cake…most of my baking, some of my marinades. Sometimes it lands itself in my tea or on my toast. But the flavors blend so well—each complementing the next to be aromatically and sensually pleasing. Yet I was left with this question: Do I overuse this favorite spice thus neglecting others?

I would like to think that I use this spice appropriately so that it helps to build the flavor of the dishes I cook or bake while not overpowering and pushing out the other flavors. There is a long list of dishes that it has not worked itself into. Thus, I am hopeful that I have not fallen into this (apparently) American trap. However, I will certainly be watching my spice use a little more carefully in the near future to see what other patterns there that I might not have noticed so clearly.

Tags: food

The trip up north was a whirlwind, which I will write about later as I am only several hours from heading to the airport.

So, for now, a story from last night.We were at a dinner with the NGO we work with to celebrate what was accoplished this trip and the foundation it laid for new work. As much as is possible with the little I have with me, the hair and make-up were done, a skirt and jewlerry on. Before our dinner comes I am straining to hear people as the open night air swollows their voices and one man speaks Belgian French. A different accent that I struggle to understand in any circumstance. Then dinner arrives and I am faced with a half a barbequed chicken and fried bananas. I look at the chicken and attack with my knife and fork. It takes about two seconds before I am stealing glances around hoping, wishing that someone will pick up their chicken with their hands. It seems like a century of attempting to attack my chicken when someone finally puts down their fork and I sigh as it has suddenly become acceptable to dive in with my hands. Oh how I wanted to be in village where I can understand the French and silverware is optional if available.

More from Washington in a day….

Tags: benin, food

Day two and we are still on track, and I am feeling spoiled with the internet acess.

Last night I made a request to go to Le Pili Pili, a nice local restaurant that has fantastic grilled fish with the special ‘pili pili’ marinade. The type of fish you ask? The type that tasted good and had more than enough for three people. Topped off with fried plantains and Fizzi Pomplemouse (grapefruit soda), I could not ask for much more.

Wish there was something more to report or some great stories, but it is really ‘life as normal in Cotonou.’ Maybe there will be something good after a visit to a new village this afternoon…

Tags: benin, food

Yesterday at the end of the church service, every one stayed around for a little reception afterwards as a child had died a week ago, and we had bri (porridge) of acasa and some people had drinks (I have still managed to decline local alcohol). You have to understand—I really am not a fan of acasa to start out with. Acasa is made from yams (white root – not American sweet potatoes) that have been dried in the sun, then pounded to powder, then rehydrated to form a starch that is eaten with the various sauces at lunch or dinner. It is kind of like Jell-O jigglers that is white with no good fruity flavor. With sauce, I now have no issues with it, though do not choose to eat acasa when at restaurants. Now….bri of acasa. Ouch. All the lack of (or questionable) flavor with (maybe?) a hit of sugar with NO sauce. And, an extra large serving of it because well, I am a guest. Why didn’t they make bri of maize? Bri of maize is similar to cream of wheat, and I make it regularly for breakfast here. Needless to say, I was quick to decline the extra serving I was offered when I got to the bottom of my bowl.

The second unpleasantry was for one of my students. We’ll call her ‘fizzi-less’ (FL) for this entry. She hates anything fizzi: soda, champagne, and probably beer. It makes her tongue hurt and it is hilarious to watch her face when she has a sip of something fizzi. I thought we were going to make through our time here without her getting a soda as a gift from a village that she would have to drink, but last night killed that track record. We were all promptly given warm Cokes after the meeting with the new village. She was coaxed through it, but managed to drink the whole bottle without a look of pain on her face. FL is keeping the bottle cap as a remembrance of her first and (she hopes) last Coke ever.

Tags: benin, food, village