Part five: Friends and ferries

Click to read: Part one: A palace and a hostel, Part two: A stolen sandwich and art, Part three: Relationship advice and edible puzzles, and Part four: Tanneries and street food

My friend was waiting when our bus pulled into one of the country’s eastern-most cities. Back at the house, we joined her husband and a bubbling lasagna and caught up over supper.

When the guys left to check into J’s downtown hotel, J took my phone–the one with functioning data–in case he needed help getting back in the morning. As he left, I worried aloud. My fears were unreasonable, I knew, with his being a seasoned traveler, but he was blazing a new territory all alone. He told me that I was nervous so he wouldn’t have to be.

As soon as they had gone, my friend and I got down to the heart-to-heart girl talk we’d been waiting for.😀

The next morning, her husband got up early to make the German version of cinnamon rolls, or “cinnamon snails.” After breakfast, we parted ways–the men for a hike, the women shopping. My friend and I moseyed through a shaded market area and even had the privilege of witnessing a fight involving a shattered shop display and two irate shopkeepers. We also meandered through the city and finally found an unoccupied shady spot in the park.

The only thing I bought was a notebook for writing letters. I figured J would approve since most of the letters would likely arrive to his mailbox.

We met the men for lunch in a family restaurant with comfortable chairs. We lingered over the mouth-watering salads, reluctant to move on, even after the main course arrived. Our main course, tride au poulet, was chicken slathered in some sort of sweet sauce and covered with thin sheets of pastry dough. It was delicious, but far too sweet for either J or me. We made a valiant effort, but still couldn’t finish the dish.

bread and small dishes of various salads

After an afternoon rest, we walked to a local park–a dot of refreshing green in the midst of vast brown. We picked up a few foods on our way home for a light supper. I may or may not have eaten more than my share of the maaqoudas (potato-based fritters) because I forgot how much I loved them.

The next morning, we said our goodbyes after breakfast. It had been a short but worthwhile visit. As we waited in line for a taxi to take us to the border city, I was unpleasantly surprised to see that our taxi would be an old Mercedes rather than a newer taxi where everyone was entitled to their own seat. The driver ordered J and me to sit together in the front seat. I attempted to be a good sport, but I could already picture us emerging from the taxi hours later with crooked spines and headaches. J perched himself on the center console and somehow managed to give me the majority of the front seat without interfering with the driver’s shifting. He even dozed off up there!

Our border crossing was smooth, thanks to our blue passports. From the border, we walked to the port and boarded our waiting ferry. We had the perfect amount of time, despite the fact that we had forgotten to calculate the hour time jump once we crossed the border. The ride was 6½ hours, so we had plenty of time both to rest and explore. We did both, but spent most of the time on the upper passenger deck. There, the wind was chilly and the sun bright. As we talked, we stared at the water, mesmerized by the swirling foam the ferry left behind. We even saw dolphins for a few magical minutes.

Soon, darkness was falling. Our ferry pulled into the Almería port and we disembarked into the familiar night air. After only five days in North Africa, Spain was downright homey.

Foodie nights

This summer, I was encouraged to add recreational activities to my regular schedule. “What do I enjoy doing?” I asked myself. My default pleasure activity has always been reading, any free time passing with my nose in a book. But surely that wasn’t all I enjoyed.

Then I remembered that I like puttering around in the kitchen when I have purpose but no pressure. The remembrance felt like walking into the embrace of a dear friend, so when I returned to Spain, I determined to make time for recreational cooking.

Roughly every other weekend, but sometimes in another available time here or there, I plan a time for recreational cooking. I call it a “foodie night,” but mostly just to myself because, truth be told, I’m not a foodie; I just like trying a new recipe now and then without the pressure of it needing to turn out.

The foodie night process starts long before the evening I get to try out a new recipe. It starts with ideas–maybe an ingredient I see that I didn’t know I could get here in Spain, or something someone else mentions they made. Then I hunt down a recipe, gather ingredients from hither and yon around town (and invent substitutions for those I can’t find). And maybe the recipe requires a little prep beforehand. At last, foodie night arrives, and I pull out my collection of ingredients, turn on some music, and take my time.

Here’s what I’ve made so far:

Miso soup ⭐
Spring rolls with shrimp, cucumber, carrot, and mint dipped in peanut sauce ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Miso soup again ⭐
Gelatin gummies ⭐
100% Rye bread, recipe #1 ⭐
Sugar-free chocolate mousse ⭐⭐⭐⭐
100% Rye bread again, recipe #2 ⭐⭐
100% Rye bread for the third time, recipe #3 ⭐⭐

Perhaps the stars say it all. They surely tell you that you’re glad you weren’t around to taste test!

I decided that miso is an acquired taste that I don’t feel like acquiring. Or maybe I chose the wrong recipes to try. Who knows? The only thing the spring rolls were missing was more shrimp. My tight-wad amount of shrimp was masked by the show-stealing peanut sauce. The gelatin gummies were a nice thought, but just tasted like bland finger Jell-O. And then began the rye bread saga. The flavor was right every time…but I was always disappointed by the incredible density that made it more chewy than pleasurable. The last loaf puffed promisingly in the oven, but collapsed when I removed it. The chocolate mousse was a modest success, but only with myself since I didn’t share it with anyone.

Although many of these attempts didn’t turn out like I had envisioned, it doesn’t really matter. The joy of the process was exactly what I had envisioned.

Recipe: Summer lentil-quinoa salad

This is one of my favorite summer recipes this year. I eat it as a meal, so one recipe equals two servings for me. If you serve it as a side, you’ll probably get more like 4-6 servings.

1/2 c. uncooked lentils
1 1/2 c. bone broth or water
1/2 c. uncooked quinoa
1 c. bone broth or water
1 med. cucumber, diced
1 sm.-med. bell pepper, diced (red is best, but I use whatever color I have available)
1/4 red onion, chopped
2 Tbsp. fresh cilantro, chopped

Wash lentils and then soak for a few hours. Cook them in 1 1/2 c. bone broth or water (if using water, add a bay leaf). Set aside and allow to cool. Rinse quinoa well and cook in 1 c. bone broth or water. Set aside and allow to cool.

Meanwhile, chop cucumber, pepper, onion and cilantro. When the lentils and quinoa are cooled, add veggies and mix well.

Dressing:

3 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1-2 tsp. lemon zest
2 Tbsp. fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1 garlic clove, minced
1 tsp. Dijon mustard
1 tsp. honey
salt and pepper, to taste

Whisk together dressing ingredients. Stir into the salad.

Allow to chill for several hours before serving. This is probably the most important step! You really want those flavors to meld or the salad won’t taste right.

Note: You can change out the veggies–maybe tomatoes or broccoli. You could even add some cheese. Just make sure that the proportions stay the same so you don’t end up with a dry, unwanted salad languishing in the depths of your refrigerator.