Tuesday, March 30, 2010

I wanted to get back to what?

I wanted to get back to what is real. What is pure, delicious, and yes, truly pleasurable. Eager to put an end to the steady, systematic poisening of my husband, children, and my self I emarked on a quest for food. Real food. Not processed, reconstituted, enriched, pesticided, ladden with corn syrup and empty calorie "food like" products. Pen and palette In hand, I headed back to the lands of real food. I traveled across this over processed, over productive, under nourished and overfed great nation of ours for an adventure and an education. And, what I discovered was in fact, a way to find our way back home. Countries away, among the people and foods of the Rainforest I found what I hope will be my next journey. In Belize and Guatemala, among the shanties, dusty dirt roads, barefoot and care free children, and the laid back, laboring people I discovered a culture rich in food, flavor, and substance. Like the genuine, sometimes complex histories of the various Belizean and Guatelean people, so too were the foods and flavors that I found myself photographing and embracing. Passionately and desperately documenting my experiences, I compiled stories, experiences, and recipes to bring home. As I made my way back to the airport, I found a renewed sense of energy to provide for my family. Just as my heart, soul, and yes, appetite have been fed by the generous (though not by North American standards) people of Belize and Guatemala, so too must I now share generously with, ironically, the more deprived members of my family, back home in the richest, most priviledged nation on the planet. And with you. Eat well...


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Should I Stay Or Should I Go Now

Admittedly, just days before we were due to fly to our sunny, exotic vacation destination in the Dominican Republic, I was having second thoughts. First, it was the middle of February on a frigid and long winter evening when I began researching this vacation. Desperate for an escape, on a whim I had found this resort at 2 o'clock in the morning on the Internet. The following morning, after conferring with my husband, I had then provided the friendly telephone booking agent at the Wyndam with my credit card number, (as well as the "security code"- yeah, so secure on the back of my Visa and provided to so many). Later that same morning, The Today's Show ran a segment on bogus resort destinations. Apparantly, with careful editing and a little trick photography, some of these resorts appear to be luxurious and picturesque but upon arrival, turn out to be dumps for dubbed American travelers. Coincidence that this is being broadcast on my kitchen television this morning or a message from the travel fairy? Secondly, the only items packed so far for this journey were the 5 bottles of Malaria pils- one per family member. And last but not least, my rising level of anxiety about this trip was exacerbated by the fact that I would be traveling to the unknown with 2 young boys, one moody teenager- who thought of himself as both buff and brilliant (and unfortunately for me, above maternal wisdom or guidance) and one chronically sleep deprived, raging workaholic in the midst of yet another round of negotiations and acquisitions. Hence, my trepidation.

The day before our scheduled depature, The Today's Show appeared on my kitchen television once again though this time with the local weather forecast running across the screen. These final days of March were due for colder temperatures and snow?
Adios Minnesota.
Vamos a Dominican Republic...

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Location:Minneapolis or Dominican Republic

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Walk On By

No habla Ingles?!
We arrive at the resort and discover that not only do the guests speak only Italian, French, Spanish, and German (for me a particularly difficult dialect and tone) but the staff too. We are quite alone. The language barrier is going to be a challenge but we're here now. (The cultural barrier is worse but more on that later.) And well, I brought us here so I'd best make certain that I not only manage this but that I do it with a smile on my face. First, if I don't, my kids and husband will eat me alive. If they sense that we're going to be unable to communicate with all of these people for 7 days, G-d help me. Secondly and more of a motivation for me is that clearly many of these French women can smell an American a kilometer away and I won't give them the satisfaction. I wouldn't let them see me struggle. I will be elegant and unflappable too, even if I don't look good topless in a bikkini. Even if I don't smoke skinny brown cigarettes. Even if I can't sip Expresso without gagging. I am going to be a lovely, polite, and gracious American.

Until you budge in front of me. Really? Who does this after 2nd grade? Who just cuts in front of someone in line? And, I don't mean once. I mean, like throughout the day, if you are not on guard and vigilient they will just look straight ahead and skip passed you. You snooze- you loose. And there is no false pretense as if to imply they didn't see you. It's blatant. It's more like an entitlement kind of walk ahead of you thing. "I want it to be my turn so I'm going now," says her strutt. And I'm stunned.

Stunned into silence the first time. And the second. The third time I pleasantly say, "I believe I was next.". Blank stare. She pushes ahead.

By day three I am now fantasizing in my lounge chair. What would happen if I could just reel off something in perfect French like, "excuse me but you certainly may not move ahead of me in such an uncivilized manner? It's most unbecoming. You must now hand over your croissant, I will buy your flat for 100 francs, and you are in jail until your next turn. And wait your turn!".
Or I could just trip her

Day 4, I have mastered the art of the body block. Oh yeah, I'm not a skinny little French woman in beach heels (who knew they even made beach shoes with a heel.) I'm an Eddie Bauer American size 10, in sturdy Keene flip flops and I can take you down. At the concierge desk, I will stand strategically front and center in order to prevent you from walking ahead of me. I will place my big beach bag to my right and angle myself so that you would have to jump over the giant potted plant on my left. You cannot circumvent my established place in the line. Yes, the line. Heard of it?! And, by the way if you don't respect my country or my language, why the hell are your children wearing Nike tennis shoes, Ralph Lauren t-shirts, and Ray Ban sunglasses?


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Dominican Republic

Friday, March 26, 2010

Travel Time

The flight is on schedule and all of our luggage makes it through security without a glitch. All 16-3.5 oz bottles of shampoo, sunblock, Aoe Vera, and mousturizer. Each carry-on nestles into the overhead compartments perfectly and just when I thought it couldn't get any better, sealed- though still somewhat nasty acrylic blankets await us at our seats. Best of all, this airline is serving us Coke products. Sorry Northwest- the take over did have one advantage.

Four hours and forty five minutes later:
One teenager plugged in to iPod- checkmark.
Two younger children sharing a movie and not bickering- checkmark.
Husband who pulled an all-nighter in preparation for this trip, out cold-checkmark.
And me, not yet officially in paradise, book in hand, very, very content and already living la vida loca- checkmark.
All of this bought and paid for on the credit card (with that customer service representative back in February) -priceless.
"Prepare for landing." Let the vacation begin...


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:MSP

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Get Real


I wanted to get back to what is real. What is pure, delicious, and yes, truly pleasurable... Eager to put an end to the steady, systematic poisoning of my husband, children, and myself, I emarked on a quest for food. Real food. Not processed, reconstituted, enriched, pesticided, ladden with corn syrup and empty calorie "food like" products.

Pen and palette In hand, I headed back to the lands of real food. I traveled across this over processed, over productive, under nourished and overfed great nation of ours for an adventure and an education. And, what I discovered was in fact, a way to find our way back home. Countries away, among the people and foods of the Rainforest I found what I hope will be my next journey.

In Belize and Guatemala, among the shanties, dusty dirt roads, barefoot and care free children, and the laid back, laboring people I discovered a culture rich in food, flavor, and substance. Like the genuine, sometimes complex histories of the various Belizean and Guatelean people, so too were the foods and flavors that I found myself photographing and embracing. Passionately and desperately documenting my experiences, I compiled stories, experiences, and recipes to bring home.

As I made my way back to the airport, I found a renewed sense of energy to provide for my family. Just as my heart, soul, and yes, appetite have been fed by the generous (though not necessarily by my misguided North American standards) people of Belize and Guatemala, so too must I now share generously with, ironically, the more deprived members of my family, back home in the richest, most priviledged nation on the planet. And with you. Eat well...