The Mystery Destination Revealed

The last leg of trip went smoothly. Suddenly, there I was: Buenos Aires, the city I've been dreaming about constantly for the last two years.

Going through customs was equally smooth. They did not ask me a thing, even though I had ticked the box that said that I was bringing vegetable matter into the country (three gargantuan unsealed bags of my favourite loose leaf teas). I couldn't complain, of course. It was one of my minor worries (after getting deported) that they would throw all of it away. It would have been quite a waste of quality tea, not to mention money. Also, they did not even check to see if a had a return ticket of any sort. Bureaucracy is much more lax in Argentina.

A man was waiting for me in the arrivals area (I've always wanted come out of the gate to find someone holding a board with my name on it... it makes you feel somewhat special).

Exiting through the doors, we were submerged by a wave of warmth and humidity. I was about to discover the true meaning of muggy. A blanket of dark clouds loomed overhead, but the temperature remained at about 32 degrees. "Viene una tormenta" said my escort. I was expecting sun on my arrival in Buenos Aires, but a storm... that was even more exciting.

The suburbs of Buenos Aires are not very impressive. For the most part, if you translate the signs into English, it could almost be a highway in some part of Canada, except for all the highway tolls that stop us along the way (a big sign reads "thank you for choosing our highway"). As we neared the centre of the city, the traffic seemed to multiply itself. My driver was unusually silent. Nothing beyond a reciprocal "hola." Argentine taxi drivers are usually all chatter. The silence, however, did not bother me. I was still in a daze from the air travel. My arrival had not completely settled in. It came in gentle hits, as if the boxer inside me was still warming up.

The last time I was on this road, tears were rolling down my cheeks as I was watching my last sunset in Buenos Aires. Now I was doing doing the trip in reserve, invisible tears creeping back into my eyes.

Finally, we arrived at my hostel, America del Sur, in my beloved San Telmo.

"Yo quiero navegar tan lejos

pero aun no encuentro el mar

recuerdame como es el viento

que hoy tan lejos parece estar"

-La Reina Morsa, "Navegar"

My fate is sealed, there is no turning back, I thought as I trudged along with my heavy bags towards the bus stop the morning of my departure. Sitting tightly on my alloted seat, though, waiting for my first flight to take off, an eerie feeling settled into my stomach–that I was not following fate but defying it; that I was going against the natural order, the predestined course of my existence; that what I was doing is horribly wrong, in capital letters sprawled across a large chalkboard. I could not help thinking that I had just set myself on a corridor that leads straight to a colossal failure.

Toronto Airport. Approaching gate 177, I start hearing Spanish. I almost clasp my hands together in gleeful relief, but settle instead for a more nonchalant stance. Nevertheless, I cannot ignore the new feeling in my chest, as if a gold ore was weighing it down.

Bienvenidos a Santiago de Chile. It is good to hear chilenos again, and to see the dry hills that surround Santiago. I almost wish for a moment that this was my final destination. But the voyage is not over yet. Taking off one last time, I stare at out the window to get a glimpse of Mount Aconcagua. The Andes look magical in the glorious summer sun.

The Adventure that Almost Did not Happen

They told me I was going to get deported.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

I was at the counter, doing my check-in, and facing the flight attendant's categorical refusal, I felt a heavy emptiness sink into my stomach, and red lights flashed zealously in my mind. I was glumly reminded of my last check-in fiasco*. They told me I had two options: buy a return ticket (which I had no money for) or go home and rethink my travel plans (are you kidding me?).

Ok. Ok. Ok.

I had barely forty minutes to come up with another solution. I tried to think rationally, but it's hard to think rationally when your insides are breaking down. I started asking questions, trying to hide the anger and distress in my voice. More than once, I put my elbows on the counter and laid my my face into my hand. Un oeuf dans un cocotier. I probed desperately for a loophole (there had to be a loophole, there is always a loophole).

Finally, it came to me. I only needed proof that I was going to leave the country before my three months were over. If I could not afford a flight, perhaps I could afford another mode of transportation, say, a boat. Throwing myself at my computer, I hastily booked myself a provisional ferry ride. The flight attendant could not refute my idea. Tickets in hand, I ran to the departure gate, travel pillow bobbing against my duffel bag, and made it, just on time, for my first flight.

*My trip to Europe in 2008, I was told at check-in that my flight did not exist (I burst into tears). We were on the phone all day with the booking company to book a new one.

More exciting–and revealing–adventures soon to come. First, I must tend to my stomach. Can you guess where I am?

Party Food

Canada Day also happens to be one of my good friend's birthday, so this year, my sister and I decided to host a backyard barbecue party to celebrate both occasions. As per usual, I quickly signed up for some tasks in the kitchen, agreeing to produce two salads, my ever-popular guacamole and the pièce de résistance: an irresistible chocolate dessert. I am not the best of cooks–I am the kind who improvises and makes a mess–but the food was well appreciated, and upon request, I decided to share my recipes with you, so you can cook up catastrophes in your own homesteads.

My first choice for a salad to make was my orzo salad, from a recipe I found a few years ago on epicurious. It is the perfect summer salad, with juicy olives and tomatoes and just the right amount of tang from the marjoram and the Dijon. Besides, who doesn't like spooning huge quantities of orzo into their mouths? This salad is best made in advance, to give the flavours a chance to develop. This is one of the few recipes that I follow to the letter (OK–maybe not to the letter–I like to throw in extra tomatoes. a tad more Dijon and marjoram doesn't hurt either. To hell with it – let's put in some more olives in as well).

For my second salad, I wanted as much as possible to use the ingredients that I already had in my fridge and pantry, which that day included spinach, apples and pecans. I foodgawkered it (hey–people are always tweetin' and googlin'; why can't I be foodgawkerin'? And yes, the verb is to foodgawker, not to foodgawk, as might seem logical. To hell with logic). So anyways, I foodgawkered my three ingredients and came up with a recipe for a salad using blue cheese and a maple vinaigrette (perfect for Canada Day!).

Guacamole I've been making it the same way since I was about seven years old. The recipe is top-secret so I will not be revealing it here. You'll just have to come to my next dinner party and taste it for yourself.

Other than that, the party was BYOSTB (Bring Your Own Something-To-Barbecue), and we had some chips and my sister's homemade salsa. Guests also brought their own drinks, although my sister had also prepared a platter of Canada-themed vodka jello shots (red jello, with cute little flags sticking out).

For the cake, I wanted something fun yet sophisticated, so I opted for a childhood favourite (and hey–adulthood as well) as the key ingredient: Nutella.

I followed the same architecture and assembling strategy as we used in the bakery where I worked for about a year: sponge cake moistened with boozy syrup and layered with buttercreams and ganaches. I started by baking a chocolate spongecake, which I divided into four and layered with a rich Nutella ganache. I topped the whole mess (hey–I said I worked in a bakery. I never said I was a baker) with Nutella buttercream. For the record, I used up an entire jumbo-sized jar of Nutella (750g) as well as an unfathomable number of eggs, but the cake turned out quite well.

All in all, getting this event organized reminded me of the pleasures of hosting a dinner party, of cooking for a crowd, so perhaps this won't be the summer's last dinner party. I just the right excuses to motivate their organization.

Happy Birthday Suzanne! I'm glad you enjoyed your party.

Orzo, Feta and Tomato Salad with Marjoram Vinaigrette
(recipe from Epicurious)

1 pound orzo
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
6 teaspoons finely chopped fresh marjoram
4 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon grated lemon peel
1/2 cup olive oil
1 1/2 cups crumbled feta cheese
3 green onions, thinly sliced
1 cup pitted Kalamata olives, quartered
24 ounces cherry tomatoes, stemmed, halved

Cook orzo in pot of boiling salted water until just tender but still firm to bite, stirring occasionally. Drain. Rinse under cold water until cool. Drain well. Transfer to large bowl.

Whisk lemon juice, 5 teaspoons marjoram, mustard, and lemon peel in small bowl. Whisk in olive oil. Set aside 2 tablespoons vinaigrette. Add remaining vinaigrette, cheese, onions, and olives to orzo; toss to coat. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Cover and let stand 2 hours to allow flavors to develop. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover and refrigerate salad and remaining vinaigrette separately.)

Toss tomatoes with reserved vinaigrette. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Mix tomatoes into orzo. Sprinkle orzo with remaining 1 teaspoon marjoram and serve.

Spinach Salad with Curried Pecans, Blue Cheese and Apples
(Recipe from bakedbree)

For the curried pecans:
6 ounces pecan halves
2 Tablespoons melted butter
3 Tablespoons sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon curry powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
a pinch of cayenne pepper

For the vinaigrette:
1/3 cup cider vinegar
2 Tablespoons maple syrup
1 Tablespoon Dijon mustard
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/3 cup olive oil

For the salad:
1 (10 ounce) package baby spinach
1 Fuji apple thinly sliced
1 small red onion thinly sliced
1/2 cup blue cheese, crumbled

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Toss the pecan in all the melted butter with the remaining ingredients. Toss to coat the pecans completely. Spread the nuts on a foil lined cookie sheet. Bake 10 to 13 minutes. Cool and set aside.
Put all of the vinaigrette ingredients in a jar with a lid and shake until combined.
Put everything into the bowl and season with salt and fresh black pepper.

Nutella Ganache
(recipe from Somewhere Splendid)

1 cup heavy cream
1 cup Nutella

In a saucepan over medium heat, warm the heavy cream. Slowly add in the Nutella, small measured spoonfuls at a time, and stir in between additions until it is combined. When all of the Nutella has been added, set the saucepan aside to cool and thicken slightly.

Nutella Buttercream
(also from Somewhere Splendid)

1 jar (13 ounces) Nutella
1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1 pound (half a bag) of icing sugar
pinch of salt
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
8 tablespoons heavy cream

In the bowl of your stand mixer, cream the butter and Nutella until combined. Add in the confectioner’s sugar in one cup increments, allowing each addition to combine before the next is put in. Continue creaming the mixture until it is all well blended. Adjust your mixer to a low speed and add the salt and vanilla extract to the mixture. Add the heavy cream, one tablespoon at a time, until your buttercream consistency is right.

Back at Home

I came back willingly from Italy, acknowledging that it wasn't the right place for me at the time. That said, there are some things I miss about my soggiorno (stay) in Italy.

I miss ordering acqua frizzante (sparkling water) at restaurants, or simply buying bottles of it at the bar or tabaccheria (in Rome, many clerks would make sure that I knew I was getting water con gas. I guess they are used to getting a lot of North American tourists who buy sparkling water by mistake). I miss buying cheap wine at the grocery store and sharing it with other travelers. I miss my juicy, meaty balls of mozzarella di buffala. But one of the things I miss the most is being able to share my pictures and experiences with everyone. Ever since I've been back, my life's been lacking the kind of adventures that are part of a traveler's daily life; the adventures that fed my blog.

So I've decided to persist with my writings. I've started another blog where I will be blogging about more trivial things: music, inspiration, quotes and the like, but I thought I'd keep this blog going as my personal diary, a place that will hopefully help me find adventures and fulfillment in my life back at home (at least until I can depart on my next trip!).

Alla Gelateria

Gelato, or rather sorbetto (sorbet), may have made its first appearance in Italy on the island of Sicily during the Renaissance, according to Elena Kostioukovitch in her excellent book Why Italians Love to Talk About Food (2006:345-347). Big balls of snow would be rolled down from Mount Etna at the end of winter, and the snow would be kept in caves between layers of felt.

 

Gelato, however, was popularized in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries in the Veneto region, when mechanics and metalworkers, with their forges and portable ice boxes, turned to gelato-making and selling while the industrialization was under way, cutting the need for their labour.

Now, ice cream is popular worldwide, but we bow to the Italians when it comes the refreshing dessert, and no experience in Italy is complete without at least una coppa (one cup) of gelato.

 Behold, the leaning towers of ice cream cones!

So many decisions! Usually, you get to choose between una coppa (a cup) or un cono (a cone), then how many gusti (flavours) you’d like, and finally, which ones! Here’s a quick and dirty guide to some of the more common flavours you might encounter.

Chocolate Flavours

Bacio	Chocolate with hazelnut pieces
Cioccolato	Chocolate
Cioccolato al latte	Milk chocolate
Cioccolato all’arancia	Chocolate orange
Cioccolato bianco	White chocolate
Cioccolato con peperoncini lll	Chocolate hot pepper
Cioccolato fondente	Dark chocolate
Cioccomenta	Mint Chocolate
Gianduja or Gianduia	Chocolate hazelnut cream

 

A personal favourite, obviously.

Nut Flavours

Castagna	Chestnut
Mandorla	Almond
Marron glacé lll	Chestnut
Nocciola	Hazelnut
Noce	Walnut
Pinoli	Pine nut
Pistacchio	Pistachio

Fruit Flavours

Amarena	Sour cherry
Ananas	Pineapple
Arancia	Orange
Banana	Banana
Cocco	Coconut
Fragole	Strawberry
Frutti di bosco lll	Wild berries
Lampone	Raspberry
Lime	Lime
Limone	Lemon
Mango	Mango
Mela	Apple
Melone	Melon
Pesca	Peach
Pompelmo	Grapefruit

Other Flavours

Caramello	Caramel
Caffè	Coffee
Cassata	Cream with dried fruit and chocolate chunks
Crema	Egg custard
Fior di latte	“Flower of milk” sweet cream
Fiore di fragola lll	Strawberry vanilla
Liquirizia	Liquorice
Malaga	Run raisin
Menta	Mint
Riso	Rice pudding
Stracciatella	Vanilla with chunky chocolate pieces
Tiramisu	cocoa, espresso, mascarpone and ladyfingers
Torroncino	Nougat
Vaniglia	Vanilla
Yogurt	Yogurt
Zabaione	Egg custard and marsala
Zuppa inglese	Custard with bits of cookie

After you've made your decision, it takes only a moment before you are handed your sculpture of flavours. Buon appetito!

A Change of Plans

I regret to announce that my Italian holiday has come to an end. My classes in Perugia turned out to be disappointingly dull, and rather than enduring a month that risked to be mediocre at best, I decided to admit that I was no longer having fun, to ditch my classes and to come home early. I spent a last weekend in Rome and then took an early flight to Frankfurt and then to Vancouver.

There I was, early in the morning at Rome's Fiumicino airport, with my headphones glued on, my mind clouded by a nutella-induced sugar-high, tapping my foot to the beat of some happy-go-lucky music that drowned out the the buzz of travellers and the airport's intercom announcements, and wishing I was up and dancing.

This was the first time I was returning home with a smile on my face. At the end of my both my trips to South America, I had returned with tears in my eyes, lovesick; the first time for the boy I was leaving behind*; the second, for the city I was leaving behind**. I had hardly been in a better mood on my return from previous trips from Europe.

I enjoyed my little blogging debut very much, and I regret that it should come to an end so soon, but until I depart on another adventure, I'm afraid that I won't have much to blog about, unless you're interested in knowing about my futile attemps to find a summer job, and what I will be making for dinner every night (it tends to be a lot of the same)

Thank you very much for following my adventures!
Until next time!

-Joëlle


*My first trip to South America, a series of unfortunate events ended with a fortunate one: a Bolivian boy falling madly in love with me. I was just starting to reciprocate the feelings when I was spirited back home.

**My second trip to South America, it wasn't a boy I fell in love with, but a city: Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina. I still remember the tears rolling down my cheeks as my plane was taking off and the city becoming a web of lights at nightfall as we gained altitude.