Fried Cauliflower or Today we rise.
Darlings,
You know that my tendency for sentimentality is truly one of my greatest faults. I have a hard time living in the present, or at least, appreciating the present, and instead default to romanticizing the past (news flash LCF: the past used to be the present you loathed so deeply) or visualizing the future ( I have a harder time with this one, darlings). And the present present tense is really no different.
I tried to convince myself for the first couple of weeks that I was here that it was no big deal, that I could adapt, to thrive, to enjoy every moment of the fog covered mountains, the tasting rooms and the slower, well, much slower, pace of life.
Darlings, I have failed. Now, we have only been here for just about 2 months, and I imagine I will get into the swing of things at some point, but for the time being, I do miss the east coast. Most specifically, I miss the pace of the east coast. I mean, with ONE person in front of me in a coffee shop, it still takes ten minutes to get a cup of black coffee. I just cannot.
But I am trying. I promise I am.
But sometimes I need something familiar to help with it. And for whatever reason I have been dreaming in Maoz lately. Well, when I'm not having horrific Holocaust dreams (it's a real thing, darlings, and we're marching today to make sure it never happens again), I'm having Maoz dreams.I dream less of the falafel and more of the fantastic salad bar that defined the Chipotle effect well before Chipotle was even on the scene. You could make your falafel taste like anything you could ever want.
Pickles. and beets. and israeli salad. and tabbouleh. and carrots. and cabbage.
Darlings - Mezze is my favourite meal of the day.But the best part of that the bar? The fried cauliflower.The fried cauliflower.But there are no maoz's out where we are. Darlings, although we live in wine country, it's not exactly what you would call a cultural mecca. Mostly, we have Carl's Jr. and Jack in the Box. It seems that I always end up living somewhere without a large Middle Eastern or even just Jewish contingency and have to scrape by in my own kitchen. I have promised myself that the next place we move will in fact be a cultural mecca. Darlings, I am a city mouse by nature.So there I was. A school night, no desire to drive an hour into San Francisco, and a head of cauliflower in my kitchen. And I did what any self loving Jew would. (easiest recipe in the world ahead) I hacked that head of cauliflower up, drenched it in good olive oil, Za'atar and Salt and threw it in the oven at 350 for 30 minutes - I needed to get it soft and decadent. And then I threw it on the fire at high high heat, to get some crunch on the outside of the luscious decadence. I dusted it with some more salt, a little smoked paprika and some sesame seeds. Just because. And then I ate it with yoghurt and dill and more good olive oil. And then I added some peanuts to that mix. (Darlings, I'm not pregnant, I promise)And it was incredibly enjoyable. And for a moment, I felt like I was ten years back. In Philadelphia, walking down Walnut Street eating Maoz, with my ipod shuffle blasting Dashboard Confessional.
Darlings, if you are marching today, a few things: First, I thank you because of my Jewish heritage, my planned parenthood usage, my pansexuality, my foreign husband, our friends of every shape, size, color and sexuality of the rainbow. I thank you for realizing that Rights are Rights are Rights are Rights and that to deny any decent human being those rights is to create a world of destruction and hate. SO march on. Donate. Engage. I know I will.Secondly, be careful. Protect yourselves. Wear comfortable shoes. Pee when you can. Drink water when you can. And most importantly - don't let the bastards grind you down.
With love, and warmth and gratitude to all on this day of revolution (and well, cauliflower).
xoxolcf