Allan and I bought a house here in Brasilia.  We thought it might be (hope to be) a good investment.  It is in a gated development a 25-minute drive out of the city.  It looks very modern, cubic white concrete and double story glass windows.  But due to the idyllic climate, almost always somewhere in the 70s, the house has few of the systems we rely on in North America.  We don’t have heat or air conditioning.  We don’t have hot water on tap.  There is no dishwasher and there is no oven.  We have adapted to this eco-home through many small adaptations.  We have a few fans throughout the house to generate cool air.  We use an electric kettle to heat dishwater and an electric shower head that heats water as it runs through for showers.  I also shipped in a Kamado Joe ceramic cooker for all of our baking.  That might seem like an extreme commitment, and, no, I’m not coming home from work every night and starting up the coals.  But every Sunday afternoon I cycle through a sequence of dishes, some that are quick grilled, some slow roasted or baked, and some that are finished with very low, dry heat.  The following dish is in my regular rotation.  I call it Brazilian-style because hearts of palm are plentiful here, but you could go full Mediterranean and use marinated artichoke hearts just as well.

Brazilian/Mediterranean Chicken Confit

• 10 chicken thighs (rubbed with salt, pepper, dried garlic and chili).
• 1 head of garlic cloves, peeled
• 4 hearts of palm, sliced in 1-inch pieces
• 1/2 preserved (or fresh) lemon rind,  rinsed and slivered
• Rosemary sprigs
• Olive oil

Preheat an oven or ceramic cooker to 375 (F) degrees.

Place chicken thighs in a large ceramic baking dish.  Distribute the garlic cloves, hearts of palm, lemon slivers, and rosemary.

Pour olive oil around and over until oil comes 1/2 way up the chicken thighs.

Bake at 375 (F) for approximately 20 minutes, than reduce heat to 300 (F) degrees for another hour.

Serve over whole-grain pasta, drizzled with the baking oil.  Freezes well.

Moving to Brasilia brought more opportunity for change besides geography.  I also moved from the classroom to counseling.  After 31 years of teaching, I have found taking a different role in the school organization to be energizing and challenging in all new ways.  Every day, I draw upon all I have learned in my life about both the nature of being human and the nature of learning.  Students and adults continually surprise me with their hidden motivations and thinly veiled vulnerabilities.  Just because I occupy the office with the title Counselor on the door, people reveal themselves to me in a different way than they ever would have in a classroom.  Much of the time, I feel there is a lot of good I can do, and sometimes, I feel overwhelmed.

Before I entered this job, a fellow counselor gave me a two word piece of advice:  Self-Care.  Of course I was already aware of taking time to nurture myself, but I took this as a mandate.  I can feel now, more than ever, how other people draw off of my personal balance and strength to find their own courage and equilibrium.  I start every day with meditation, and my intention for that time is to center my thoughts and emotions before I go out into the public or interact with anyone.  I frequently use three sites depending on my mood or time- a weekly podcast from the Mindful Awareness Research Center at UCLA, podcasts by Tara Brach, and the Insight Timer.  If you want to explore meditation, these could be ways to begin.

This is our private slice of jungle in our backyard where I learned how to meditate.  I have spent hours watching the changing dappled sunlight and visiting wildlife, listening to cicadas, bird calls, and rainfall on the pool.  It is a sanctuary.

My friend Dan has asked me before if a new adventure in my life is a new sentence, paragraph, chapter or book.  I think this reiteration has to be a new book, but likely the last of a great series.  Our family has had an awesome sequence of international school posts beginning in Singapore in 2000 and moving westward every 5 or so years to Kathmandu and Tunis.  We are finally back in the Americas, in Brazil, getting a grip on the antipodal way of life.  I frequently say to Allan, “So this is what Brazil is like.”  It’s been almost a year and a half now, but we still feel amazed most days.

We are specifically in Brasilia, the capitol. It is confusing what Brasilia is.  See, in the 1950s, the Brazilian government decided to move the capitol from Rio de Janeiro along with a significant portion of the population.  It was a bit like the Westward Expansion in the United States.  A location was chosen on the central plateau in a biome of shrubby pines and red dirt.  They dammed a river to form a giant lake and built a purpose-designed “modern” city, in the shape of an airplane,  with exorbitant expanses of green space, economical and convenient housing blocks,  and public buildings designed by Oscar Niemeyer that would signal to the world that Brazil was progressive and optimistic.  It is honestly a wonderful place to live.  At 3,000 ft. elevation, it has a mild sub-tropical climate with year-around temperatures between 70 and 80 degrees.  Half of the year is rainy and the rest is dry.  Compared to the coastal cities, Brasilia is very safe.  It is also healthy with clean air,  miles of bike lanes, and water sports on the lake.

That’s about all I’m going to explain for now.  I hope to start showing this experience as one eats an elephant:  one bite at a time.  Just in closing, the header photo was last weekend at the Pantanal, a delta of the Amazon and the world’s largest wetland.  My clever get-up was chosen to stay cool and dry while trying to keep chiggers from invading my skin.  We spent hours each morning and evening on a boat taking in an incredible number of birds and constantly scouting for a jaguar- no show.  Behind me is actually an inlet of the river completely covered by flowering lilly pads.  So this is a little of what Brazil is like.  More to come.

 

Porto is a city of serious historical depth with a pleasant industrial edge.  Our apartment, Oh, Porto, is perched on the rocky hillside directly under this Eiffel era bridge.  It might sound uncomfortable, but all of the architectural drama surrounding us is quite thrilling.

At the same time, Porto is incredibly friendly, just downright loving, and homey.  We discovered this restaurant on our first night and will be having our third meal there tonight.  The food is brilliant, but completely welcoming.  This is the couvert or snacks they bring to your table.  Various house-baked breads and crackers, olives, truffle butter, and fresh tomato creme fraiche.  Everything is served in bakeware or tiny enamelware dishes.  It is sweet and sophisticated at the same time.

Lunch was corn porridge with fried chunks of spicy sausage, a sous vide egg, topped with peppery greens, parmigiana, and fresh tomatoes.  I can’t wait for dinner.

Happy first day of spring from the hill country of Eastern Portugal.  We took a big walk around this estate, Torre de Palma, after a Sunday afternoon rainstorm.  I was singing Joni Mitchell about going to a party down a red dirt road.  The clay soil clung so heavily to our boots that they created ankle weights for an additional workout.

Today is also Palm Sunday.  In the village where we had lunch, mass was just letting out.  The church bells were ringing at noon, and people were walking home with giant stalks of rosemary in their hands.  I think it was their local version of the palm fronds.

We had a light lunch of local sheep cheese, Iberico ham, and thick slices of mushrooms only half cooked in olive oil and garlic.  This was a little revelation to me.  I always slice mushrooms too thinly and cook them too completely.  They should still be raw and springy in the center, more like a slice of artichoke heart.  Keeping things simple and a little raw seems like a good way to head into a fresh season.

 

A friend recently lent me the memoir of Lynsey Addario:  It’s What I Do, A Photographer’s Life of Love and War.  Lynsey was a war photojournalist in Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Libya, where she was famously kidnapped and eventually released.  Most of the book recounts shoots in intensely hot combat zones where she frequently risked her life to get the photos she posted back to American newspapers, at the end of the day.

She wrote about one conversation, though, that she had with an editor from National Geographic.  He presented Lynsey with a different type of challenge.  This editor advised her “Don’t shoot this story like a New York Times story.  Take your time with it; get into it.  Use the time you have to explore.” (Addario, 2015, pg. 271)  She found this imperative a little frustrating because it meant retraining herself to shoot with “time and patience” which was not her typical style.

I have reflected, lately, that those of us who live in another country for an extended amount of time also have this luxury of time, but also a challenge to tell about our experiences slowly, one small layer at a time.  Sometimes I feel like I am doing that, but there have been gaps of time when I have stopped exploring and noticing and have retreated back to merely living my life in the context of another country without truly being part of it.

For my birthday, Allan took me to the most northern tip of the Cap Bon Peninsula, El-Haouaria,  somewhere we have intended to go since we moved here.  This little village can see some tourist action at the height of summer, but we had the privilege to visit it at the end of winter, something few non-residents experience.

Our splendid inn, Dar Enesma, was cozied up with a fire in the main room and gentle radiator heat in the stylishly designed rooms.  We quickly got onto the rhythm of village life through the sounds of the sea, free-ranging roosters and sheep, and the prayer calls from the tiny mosque.

For once, I got myself out early enough in the morning to take photos in the day’s best light.  Down at the port, some of the fishermen were selling what they had already caught, while others were just gearing up to head out.

 

The best surprise of this visit, however, was this outstanding Italian restaurant, Bellariva.  We were the only customers on Saturday night.  Business is slow in winter,  but from the second we entered, we knew we were going to have a special meal.  There was no menu.  The owner, Dalla Lina, suggested we first have a plate of  house-made tagliatelle with a deep, rich porcini mushroom sauce.  This was followed by a plate of her ravioli, stuffed with spinach and ricotta and topped with a tangy, fresh tomato and basil sauce.  Finally, we had a plate of her long-braised rabbit, served with its own pan sauce of melted vegetables with soy-like richness.  Dalla, married to a Tunisian man for 20 years, loves her seaside home and cooking for her traditional Italian restaurant, based on the local market ingredients.  But whenever she yearns for bella Italia, she just hops on the flight to Milan and is back in 1 hour.

Ask the owner of Dar Enesma, Sonia Ouedder, to make a reservation at Bellariva for you.  This will also ensure that it is open.

This post is showing so much skin it could be censored.  What I want to show you, though,  is a new cooking hack I read about in Saveur magazine that I now use all of the time. First, go to your pantry and dig out your bundt pan.  Hey, it’s not a bad pan, is it?  It’s made of pretty high grade aluminum so your cakes don’t burn.  Cover the center hole with a strip of aluminum foil, and place the bundt pan on top of a sheet pan.

Fill the base of the bundt pan with a layer of something starchy like sliced potatoes or pre-soaked beans, like my cranberry beans.  Next, add a layer of chopped vegetables.  I used diced pumpkin, but you could use fennel, zucchini or even sturdy greens.  The top layer will be sliced onions and maybe chopped garlic, along with some herbs or spices.

Take a whole chicken and rub it all over, and under the skin, with softened butter mixed with anything else you want to infuse it with.  I often use harissa in my cooking, but you could use something else or just stick with butter, salt, and pepper.

Now, prop the chicken up on the center tube of the bundt pan.  It’s weird; I know.  It’s kind of like that old beer can chicken that some grillers are fond of making.   Make sure the chicken has a good, solid center of gravity because as it cooks, it will soften and you don’t want it to fall over or off.

Add water to the base of the pan, at least enough to cover the starch element.  Place the entire set up, carefully, in a 400 degree oven and cook for 1 to 1 1/2 hours.  If the chicken starts to get too brown, but the beans and vegetables aren’t thoroughly cooked, yet, just cover the chicken part with some foil.  The same can be done if the onions start to get too brown before the other vegetables and chicken are cooked.  What is going to happen, though, is that the chicken fat and juices are going to drip, drip, drip into the base, soaking those ingredients with… well, schmaltz.  You know that umami secret of Jewish mothers?  In the end, you will get both a delicious braise and a crispy roasted bird, two in one.

Serve the dish right from the oven, if you like,  or else swathe the top of the dish in aluminum foil and put it in the refrigerator over night.  The next day, you can skim off some of the fat, then serve the vegetables and roasted bird plated and reheated.

Why is it so radio-actively orange, you ask?  This orange took on a life of its own.  I did rub the chicken down with harissa, but placing it next to the pumpkin caused both of them to trend toward the electric side of the color spectrum.  I’m just going with it, though when I look at this photo, all I can think of is the Seinfeld clip The Butter Shave.  I’ll bet it was ringing a bell for you, too.

Well, it’s right on the verge, at least.  These daffs are literally peeping out.  One of the delightful things about renting a grandma’s house, this year, is discovering what she has been tucking into her garden for decades.  We just finished with the miniature jonquils.  Now, we have full blown daffodils and flowering apricot trees.Before we head into a new produce season, though,  it is a good time to look at using up food that I preserved last summer and fall.  It is one thing to get enthusiastic about canning and freezing during an abundant season.  The second part of that act, however, is creatively using that product, later on.  When I talk with Gabe each week, I often ask him what he has been cooking and if he is using up his food stores.  Sometimes, I note a tinge of irritation in his voice.  I know that it takes some more intentionality to use the food you have tucked away, especially if it is starting to sound a little repetitive.  But I also don’t want to spend my cooking days next summer trying to use up preserved food from last summer.  I want him to chow it down, now.

I put away this giant jar of kohlrabi kimchi last November.  You can see the fiery chili paste sediment waiting at the bottom of the jar.  We aren’t that excited about a side of kimchi with our meals, at the moment, but this recipe takes the heat and vinegar and crunch and turns it into a base for a different kind of dish.

Kimchi-Braised Chicken
with Bacon

1 Tbsp. olive oil
4 oz. slab bacon, or chorizo, sliced 1/4″ thick, cut crosswise into 1″ pieces
4 lbs chicken pieces
Sea salt and freshly ground pepper
8 garlic cloves, lightly crushed
1 pint cherry tomatoes
1 cup dry white wine
2 cups kimchi, with juices, divided
6 oz. pasta
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter

 

Heat oil in large Dutch oven or skillet over medium and cook bacon or chorizo, turning occasionally, until brown and lightly crisped, 5-8 minutes.  Transfer to a plate.

Season chicken generously with salt and pepper.  Cook, skin side down, in bacon drippings, until skin is very deep golden brown, 12-15 minutes.  Transfer to plate with bacon, placing skin side up.

Add garlic and tomatoes to same pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until garlic is lightly browned and tomatoes have burst, about 5 minutes.  Add wine, scraping up browned bits.  Bring to a boil and cook until reduced by three-fourths.

Add half of kimchi and nestle bacon and chicken, skin side up, into tomatoes (make sure chicken skin is above surface f liquid to keep it crispy).  Bring to a simmer and cook, reducing heat if needed, until chicken is tender and cooked through, 45-60 minutes.

Transfer chicken back to plate and bring  braising liquid to a simmer; cook until slightly thickened, 8-10 minutes.

Meanwhile, cook pasta until a dente.  Drain, reserving 1/2 cup pasta cooking liquid.

Return pasta to pot and add butter and 1/4 cup pasta cooking liquid.  Toss, adding more pasta cooking liquid as needed, until pasta is coated with buttery sauce.  Season with salt and pepper.

Stir remaining kimchi into chicken braising liquid; season with salt and pepper.  Place chicken, skin side up, in braising liquid.  Toss noodles to combine.

Serve chicken and tomato-kimchi sauce over buttery noodles or remove chicken from the bone and shred it, stirring it back into the sauce.

 

Adapted from
“Kimchi-Braised Chicken with Bacon.” Bon Appetit Feb. 2016: Web. <www.bonappetit.com>.