African-Inspired Peanut Soup

Above the African desert in a four seater plane, the world feels so different. Expansive, vast, a gentle place, where winds work hard to carve and shape the earth at their whim.

After 30 minutes of flight, the vista changed so dramatically. It was unnerving but also calming to witness.  What was going through my mind?  I remember.

Where am I from? Where am I going? 

How did we get here?

How does this exist? 

I'm as small as a grain of sand way down there. 

The water will wash it all away. 

My thoughts like to wander as much as my body.  Lately, I've been soaring over Namibia again, away from the quotidian workings of my mind: What's for lunch, what's for dinner, what fun toddler activities will I orchestrate today? 

But no, really, what is for dinner?  I can't daydream all day.  Back down to earth I come.  I remember the flavors of Namibia and recall a peanut soup.

If you can make it to Africa in this lifetime, I whole-heartedly recommend a fly-in safari in Namibia.  In the  event that such a trip is not possible in the next few decades, make this soup. It will tide you over, without all the existential searching. 

African Inspired Peanut Soup

4 servings

The beauty of this soup is threefold.  First, you have a surprising twist on a chicken soup (the peanut). Then you have extremely bright vegetables.  By steaming them briefly you will not overcook them. Lastly, the garnishes add bursts of tangy flavor.  And the chicken is so incredibly tender you can't help but love this dish.  Interestingly, neither the jalapeño nor the serrano peppers made this soup spicy, which was my intention.  I removed the seeds, because seeds would not be nice in a soup, and of course therein lies the spice.

1 1/2 pounds chicken breast

1/2 cup of flour (to make this gluten free, use 1/4 cup corn starch)

2 Tablespoons curry powder

1 teaspoon salt

freshly ground pepper

1/4 cup olive oil

3 cloves of garlic, minced

1 serrano or 2 jalapeño peppers, seeded and minced

5 cups chicken broth

1/4 cup natural peanut butter (fine to use either chunky or smooth)

1 stalk of broccoli
1 red pepper

Garnish: 

4 green onions, chopped

Handful of cilantro, chopped

1 lime cut into wedges

Cut the chicken breast into bite size chunks, about 2 inches each.  Mix the flour (or cornstarch) with the curry powder, salt and pepper in a shallow bowl.  Working in 2 or 3 batches, dredge the chicken pieces in the flour/curry mixture.  Heat the olive oil in a soup pot over medium heat.  Again working in batches, sauté the chicken (do not crowd it in the pot) for 2 minutes each side.  Remove and continue this until all the chicken has been sautéed.  Be careful not overcook it- really, just 2 minutes per side. Remove all the chicken from the pot and set aside for later.

In the same pot, over medium to low heat, cook the garlic and serrano pepper for about 1 minute.  Add the peanut butter and stir to melt, then add the broth.  Cover the pot and cook for 15 minutes.  

Meanwhile, as broth simmers, cut the broccoli into florets and the red pepper into chunks or strips.  Steam the vegetables until just tender, making sure they retain their vibrant color.  

Add the chicken pieces to the broth, again over a low simmer and cook for an additional 15 minutes.  (Set your timer, this will ensure extremely  tender chicken.)

The soup is ready to be served.  Just ladle the chicken and peanut broth into shallow bowl, top with broccoli and red pepper, and garnish with scallion, cilantro and lime wedges.  

Suzette's South African Granola

Recently I started writing for the online food magazine, Honest Cooking. Here is my first post about a granola recipe I was given during a trip to Cape Town, South Africa. I hope you enjoy! Click over to read.

Skeleton Coast, Namibia

My little family is on the verge of great changes, enduring the waiting period before another adventure, a life in New York City. This July we've been enjoying the bounty of summer fruits and vegetables, but without a real kitchen to call my own (all of our belongings are in storage before we get to New York) food blogging is regrettably on hold. While waiting out the transition, I'm taking stock of a few legendary trips we've taken. It's always good to stop and pause before taking another leap.

The Skeleton Coast lies on the Northwest corner of Namibia, Africa and gets only about 100 visitors a year. A few years ago, we were among those few and we knew that it was the trip of a lifetime. We embarked on a fly-in safari from the capital, Windhoek on a 2 passenger plane and landed on a strip of sand where we were met by a 4x4 that took us to our first camp.

There was something powerful about being in such a remote place surrounded by natural beauty unlike any we had ever seen. Virtually alone, with just a few guides and two other couples, we all set out each morning to experience this rugged and breathtaking land. The Skeleton Coast is a 500 km stretch along the coastline of Namibia, which got its name from the scores of shipwrecks that took place there. Whale bones and wood from the wrecks are still part of the scenery on the shores. These bones and debris are actually protected as part of the National Park, and interestingly enough, Namibia was the first country to write Nature Conservation into their constitution.

My mind goes back to Namibia when we're driving the super highways around the DC metropolitan area, past strip malls and giant suburban sprawl. It's almost unfathomable that two such shockingly different places can exist on the same planet. Namibia's mega dunes, salt-brines and grand mountains are vast and practically untouched by man. The sands are gem-laced and life is everywhere, from the tiniest lichen to the huge seal colonies, endless varieties of birds, reptiles, and the elegant oryx thumping across the plains.

We visited a small community of Himba, an ethnic group of 20,000-50,000 nomadic and pastoral people living in Northern Namibia. I think of the Himba women often. These families in their simplicity and togetherness are a true community in every sense of the word, one that I do not belong to, nor could I seek to recreate in this modern world of mine. But I look to their example in keeping Roman close to me just as they raise their children. I feel lucky to have witnessed even a brief moment of their lives for their impact on me was profound.

Our last night back at Camp before leaving the Coast, we were treated to a Namibian style "braai" (grill) complete with local meats, the spring bok and oryx, as well as bread baked on the grill. We sat down to eat feeling wistful as the staff spoke the names of the foods in each of their African languages. The clicks and singsong quality of their voices rose up into the black sky that hung low like an onyx curtain, thick with stars. We ate the meal humbled by all that we had seen, savoring the flavors of the braai and trying to imprint those memories deep into our minds so that wherever we go, we carry them still.

Notes:

The Himba people are featured in this documentary.

Our trip was planned through the ecotourism company Wilderness Safaris.

Floating back to Laos

In between worlds, having left Italy more than a month ago, I'm having to adjust to life back in the US. Our household effects are still in transit from Italy to the United States, and we are still in transition. We have everything we could ever need at our fingertips, but it all feels impersonal, white, lifeless.

Not that I'm particularly missing Rome's chaos, pollution, sirens day and night, shoddy sidewalks, but I'm still stumbling to take in my surroundings. Clean, quiet, easy Arlington, just across the river from downtown Washington DC, feels sterile and "vanilla" to me.

In these temporary surroundings of mine, my mind is flipping through the archives of the past six years. We've moved countries 4 times now and traveled to a total of 17 countries in that same time frame. I spend my afternoons while Roman is napping looking at old photographs of the times when we were living at double intensity.

In 2008 we were in South East Asia and spent a few enchanting days in Luang Prabang, Laos. Time has erased some of the details of our trip but the overall emotions of visiting this place still remain.

There was a food market every morning outside our tiny hotel. The vendors started setting up before sunrise. Those early morning noises were delicate, like small birds chirping. Their movements gentle, with little feet shuffling. They kept their voices so low that in my half-asleep state they appeared to be elves, not people.

At night, townspeople sold their crafts under vibrant canopies. Handsewn books, pillowcases, tapestries, rugs, all colorful and made with pride. No one called out garishly to us to entice us to buy. Rather, if we made eye contact, they would bow and politely utter "sabaidee" hello.

People were visibly very happy, although it was plain to see they had little material goods. They had each other's company, they had their work, and they delighted in sharing their hometown with foreigners. Their smiles were contagious, their kindness palpable. It's a memory I reach for now, surrounded by big chain stores filled with employees trained to smile.

Back here in the land of plenty, I'm pouring over the photographs of things that don't come encased in plastic and cardboard. Goods without price tags, marketing, or gimmicks. Staples of life, bought fresh, net-caught, dried in the sun, colored, spun and woven by hand.

As with any place we've visited, there were unforgettable meals, including this one, where we grilled our meat and made a luscious soup in the same contraption, placed in the center of our table over hot coals. We were given a slab of fat that sat on top of the grill to impart its flavor and moisture into the grilling meat, then dripping down into the broth in the moat where we placed the noodles and the greens to cook quickly.

Looking back on our visit to Laos years later, I'm still charmed by the quiet mystery of the place. We watched the monks collecting alms at daybreak, stumbled upon their orange robes drying on the line behind a temple, we were moved by the temples ever-reaching up to the sky, and wondered at a religion that we knew little about, but that didn't matter.

A few travel tips:

We stayed here at the Ramayana Boutique Hotel.

We loved this restaurant. The kai phen, freshly made jerky wrapped in dried, marinated river reeds was unforgettable.

Gladiator Pancakes

Last weekend we flew from Rome to the UK for a weekend trip to Richmond Upon Thames, outside London. We spent the weekend walking along the Thames, playing on the green and visiting with friends for P's birthday. It was a much needed change of air and scenery. I realized that feeding a toddler can be challenging while on the road, and I have spent the last two days since we returned home making sure he gets salmon, broccoli, kiwi and what has evolved into "the Breakfast of Gladiators."

When I was pregnant with Roman, my enormous belly got a lot of attention and Romans around the city center would say he must be a campeone or gladiatore, which always made me smile. Since I am the sole "provider" in the kitchen, I take our meals very seriously, and even more so since I'm raising a gladiator.

Enter the pancake. In its "pure" form of white flour and butter, it's not the healthiest choice for breakfast. But with a whole lot of tinkering in the form of cooked oatmeal, spelt flour, grated apple and cottage cheese, it makes for a complete meal, not to mention one that is portable and stroller (or shall I say "buggy") friendly.

Gladiator Pancakes

All winter long I have been making some form of this pancake. When I started I would use the homemade fruit purees that Roman never ate. The pancakes in the photo above have coconut oil and pumpkin puree. There was also a version with pureed prunes and apricots. You can also add ricotta instead of the cottage cheese.

1 cup whole wheat or spelt flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon cinnamon

Cooked oatmeal (3/4 cup uncooked oats and 1 cup water, prepared in microwave or on stove top)

1 cup milk

2 eggs, beaten

1/2 cup cottage cheese

1 apple or pear, grated

In a medium size bowl, combine the flour, baking powder and cinnamon with a whisk. Add the milk and beaten eggs. Stir in the cottage cheese, cooked oatmeal and grated apple or pear. Cook on a skillet with butter for several minutes each side and serve hot with pure maple syrup. Freeze any leftovers and reheat in the toaster oven.