Food Porn, Ramallah Edition

June 2012 Food Experiences

Some foodie heaven is happening in Ramallah, Palestine. I though you'd enjoy a few photos. We ate these all over the month of June. I'll add a note if the restaurant name isn't apparent in the photo.

 

Rubbery Ice Cream

This evening before attending a lecture, we went for our first taste of Rukab's ice cream. In this photo I'm trying to demonstrate the rubbery nature of the delicious Mint Chocolate Chip. Wikipedia explains it best: "One hallmark of Ramallah is Rukab's Ice Cream, which is based on the resin of chewing gum and thus has a distinctive taste."

I found the taste to be generally more or less a normal ice cream taste, but the texture was ever so slightly chewier. Interesting. Prince Charming says that it looks like snot in this photo. Don't worry, it tasted much better than that.

More from Wikipedia so you know a little about the scene in Ramallah:

" Ramallah is generally considered the most affluent and cultural, as well as the most liberal, of all Palestinian cities,[50][51] and is home to a number of popular Palestinian activists, poets, artists, and musicians. It boasts a lively nightlife, with many restaurants including the Stars and Bucks Cafe, a branch of the Tche Tche Cafe and the Orjuwan Lounge, described in 2010 as two among the 'dozens of fancy restaurants, bars and discotheques that have cropped up in Ramallah in the last three years.'[36]"

So far I haven't been to any discotheques (ever in my life?!) but I can say the folks here in Ramallah can rightfully boast about the food. It's exceeded my wildest expectations. Huge portions and everything is fresh. They season with a lot of lemon juice and parsley, two of my favorite flavors.

Bug Bites and Black Belts: The Little Things Are Big Things

Yesterday was a tough day of little challenges. I couldn't sleep, and in the morning, I was complaining to my prince about the extreme itchiness and discomfort I was experiencing from the bites from whatever tiny creatures inhabit our mattress. Or, I theorized, were the bites from mosquitos? Could he ask the people at the office if they had any advice? He was sipping the morning coffee that I made him in front of an open window, and looking doubtful that among all the saving children, he was going to have time to ask about the possibility of bugs in our mattress. I looked at the open window and got up to slide the screen shut, giving him a "the least you could do is shut the screen to keep the bugs out" look. Then we argued about the insect life in Rammallah, Palestine, vs. Lumberton, NC. He went to work. I cried my eyes out for an hour, loudly, relishing the fact that no one I knew was going to hear me and ask any questions.  I rallied, called him, and resolved our stupid little argument. I found the pain-relieving spray (see photo) that Prince Charming had, of course, thought to pack, covered my skin with it, and slept blissfully for four hours.

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Later, doing the dishes, I was scrubbing a hardened flake of oatmeal off a cup. My hand slipped, shunting the sharp shard of oatmeal under my fingernail. A small cut, a small annoyance. But damn it, couldn't something just go right today?When Prince got back from work, I told him that if something big and horrific happened to us, like something like the people back home are afraid will happen to us (crime, terrorism, etc.) we'd get through it. Our "I'm a tough survivor" instinct would kick in. Adrenaline would flow, and we'd roll with the challenges like it was our job. And people would think we were so tough, so heroic.We laughed and laughed about how it's really the little things that are the big things. He reminded my about how he'd stubbed his toe hard a week back, and even though it was just a stubbed toe, damn it, it was sore for days, and he had a lot of walking to do. So long to impressing his new staff with his powerful gait.I was reminded of when I was at a Tae Kwon Do Tournament as a teenager. I had just sparred with a huge, Amazonian warrior black belt with legs twice as long as mine, and a deadly, "I'm from the Bronx and I've killed girls just like you," look in her eyes. (It's my story, I'll embelish a little. Okay?) I was tough. I was brutal. I fought hard. I got kicked in the stomach and the face. I didn't cry. I probably won the match, but the point is that my instructors, my teammates, everyone was telling me I was One Tough Cookie. And let's be honest, I was. There weren't a lot of girls like me in my peer group.But what happened later was that I had to stay  for hours supporting my teammates. I wandered around the tournament, getting increasingly hungry, thirsty, and tired. This was right at the beginning of puberty, and I was just beginning to learn that I had a blood sugar issue and I would feel wonky if I didn't eat every three hours.

I didn't feel hungry, but I felt lost. I began to cry. I wanted to lie down. I remember that my instructor came over to me and said "What's wrong?" I shook my head, saying something like "I don't know, ahhh! I don't know….no snack yet, I lie down here?"

He gave me the most bewildered look, and said something like "You just beat Bronx girl, and now you are crying?"

It was a Little Things are Big Things moment. It's not the big fight that'll get you. It's missing your snack two hours later.

Seventeen Hours, Breast Size, and Marriage

After 17 hours sitting next to my seat mates, I got pretty chummy with Ala and Albert. Chummy enough for Ala to reach over and turn my magazine pages faster than I was turning them so she could see "Who Wore it Best" in Hollywood. Chummy enough for her to comment on the wonderfully perfect size of my breasts, as compared to the fake ones on the model in the magazine. 17 hours will do that to you. After the flight,  a person named Toby with Delta emailed an apology for the problems with the flight.  Toby wrote:

"I can only imagine how disappointed you must have been when our aircraft had to return to the gate multiple times for maintenance reasons. Additionally, we are genuinely apologetic that you arrived at your destination much later than scheduled."

He backed up his sorrow with $100 credit and 7,500 bonus miles. It's cool, Toby, that was just four more hours I got to spend with Ala and Albert. About the age of my own parents, Ala and Albert were an adorable Russian-American (Ohio) couple who'd been married for 32 years. He got less sleep than her because he let her sleep cuddled up on his shoulder or lap for the whole night. He even got up for about an hour so she could sleep on both of their seats. Her knees were hurting her.I asked her what their secret was. She said she picked a good one - a man who is just as wonderful now as  he was the day she married him.

"Even though he's getting a little belly," she said as she patted his tummy affectionately. Albert grinned a tad sheepishly. Ala continued: "It doesn't feel like it's been 32 years. Not at all."