GAPS apple raisin bake

Here in Casablanca we don’t have seasons in the American fashion. Basically it’s quite-warm -to-hot from about April to October, and from November to March it’s warm-to-cool. For the most part I’m pretty happy with this arrangement, but sometimes facebook’s rampant pumpkin spice-everything, jack o’lantern contest and fall foliage posts get me nostalgic for a season I never liked all that much.

To remedy my unanticipated melancholy, I made up this GAPS friendly recipe, which has been doing the trick lately! I’m my mother’s daughter, and don’t really measure anything when I cook, so these are approximations, feel free to get creative!

GAPS apple raisin bake

Topping:

·         1-1 ½ c mixed nuts (I use cashews, almonds and walnuts)

·         ½ c unsweetened shredded coconut

·         ¾ t salt, if all your nuts are unsalted (my almonds come salted so I skip this)

·         ½ c melted butter/ghee/coconut oil

·         ½ - ¾ c honey, to taste

·         whatever spices you like (I use cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg)

Put your nuts in the food processor and chop until about half are still in chunks but half resemble a coarse flour (note: this doesn’t take long). Dump in a bowl and add the rest of the ingredients, mix well.

Fruit:

·         4 apples, peeled, cored and cut into large chunks

·         ½ - ¾ c raisins (could skip if you wanted)

·         1 t cinnamon

·         1/3 c honey

·         ¼ c butter (cut into chunks)

Toss the apples and raisins with cinnamon, then spread around a small/medium glass baking dish with deep sides.  Add chunks of butter at intervals and drizzle the honey around.

Add the topping mixture, cover lightly with foil and bake at 350F for 25-35 minutes. Apples should be bubbly and soft when seen through the dish. Take off foil for last 5-10 minutes if you like a crustier top.

This makes enough for 4-6 people, so I make it for just the two of us because it’s delicious hot for dessert, then we have the leftovers cold for breakfast with some plain yogurt. Yum!

Of course I didn’t think to take a picture when it was whole, but pictured it what’s left after a dessert and a breakfast.

NOTE: For those of you unfamiliar with GAPS, here's a very basic rundown:

GAPS stands for Gut and Psychology Syndrome, and its diet involves eating NO grains (wheat, rice, corn etc), NO sugar (honey and fruit are OK) and nothing too starchy (quinoa, potatoes etc). It's very similar to Paleo diets, and was created by Dr. Natasha Campbell-McBride. I started on it July of 2012, and while I've adapted it to work for my lifestyle, I've been sticking to the basic elements of the diet and it has done wonders for me. I was having extremely serious problems with allergies and skin during my first 1.5 years in Casablanca, to the point that Othman and I decided we were moving back to the States. When I visited the States that summer my mom suggested trying out the diet as a last-ditch effort. Well it worked, and I'm not looking back. If you want more info about GAPS feel free to contact me. =]

Eid al Kebir, 2013

On October 15th this year Morocco celebrated Eid al Adha, or informally Eid al Kebir (literally: the feast of the sacrifice or the big feast). It's the country's most important holiday, really the only one when everything shuts down. Male heads of households are supposed to slaughter at least one one-year-old ram on the morning of this holiday. This is generally done at their residence (think: balconies, yards, apartment rooftops, etc) and the families donate at least 1/3 of the meat to those who cannot afford to slaughter their own. During the weeks leading up to it, one begins to see sheep all over the place; in cars, taxis, on buses, in tents and balconies, even on motorcycles!

Sheep generally are up for sale in tents all around Casablanca (and I guess Morocco in general but can't really say that for sure since I haven't witnessed it). If it's not a tent it's a garage or something of the sort that gets turned into a holding pen, which double as "sheep hotels" for those which have already been bought, but whose owners don't want on their balconies just yet.

It’s a very family centered holiday, and we spent it with Othman’s mom, dad, sister Sarah and brother Omar, along with some of their closer extended family at his parents’ beach apartment. The apartment is in a large complex which meant there were many sheep being slaughtered that day. It seemed haphazardous, but really was quite orderly, and was organized by the security guards. In past years the smell of sheep and blood and feces wafting through their house has really bothered me, so I was happy the slaughtering/holding of the sheep was done away from the house this year.

In the pictures you can see the holding pen, and how the scale was really pretty large. One family apparently doesn’t really like mutton and opted to slaughter a cow, and another family, possibly one with less money, went for a goat instead. It’s my understanding that both of these were also one-year-old males, but I may be wrong. The prices of the sheep vary greatly depending on its size and all that, but 2000 Moroccan dirhams, about $240, was the general starting point this year. Any household that would go into debt or have financial difficulty to buy a sheep is not supposed to get one, but that is ignored a lot of the time, since there’s a hefty amount of social pressure to have your own sheep.

Since meat needs to hang and cure for at least a day or two, on the day the sheep is slaughtered generally only the inner organs are eaten. Sheep have three stomachs, which are cleaned and cooked into a big common stew sort of thing. Then there are shish-kebobs of liver and heart wrapped in long stringy pieces of fat. Usually the men of the house go and visit other members of the extended family after the sheep is slaughtered, and the women stay and prepare the many kinds of salads and the meat. I just deal with the salads!

In the afternoon we all eat the big meal with the traditional dishes and salads. One delicacy, and one of Othman’s favorites, is the sheep’s balls chopped up and cooked with lots of butter. I’m not a huge meat eater and don’t really like mutton, so I mainly eat salad. Needless to say, I don't partake in my hubby's favorite. The next day there’s usually another family get-together with shish-kebobs of the more tender meat and whichever of the dishes were leftover from the day before.

O and his uncle manning the barbecue

Our Eid group (I'm behind the camera)

Of course this is just my personal experience from the 3 Eid al Kebirs I have spent here. Traditions vary from family to family, region to region, so I can't speak for all of Morocco, but here's one expat's version!

Behind is a Russian salad brought by Othman's aunt
(in pink above), and in front is a traditional dish
made from the three sheep stomachs....

I stayed away from the blood and guts in this post, but if you like that kind of stuff I have some more pictures on my Flickr.

Rooftop photography

Othman and I went up to the rooftop last Sunday at 3:30, because we found out on the internet that there was going to be a supercool solar eclipse around then. We hung out for a good 20 minutes before we accepted that absolutely nothing was happening or going to happen. I was pretty bummed and definitely confused. The next day he heard on the radio that it was actually around 12:30. Oops. I was pretty annoyed with the internet, you'd think at least one of the three websites I checked would have been right!

Anyway we didn’t get to see the eclipse, but I did leave with these!

Remembering their voices

Having been laid up with both a virus and a stomach bug for the last week, I needed some company during my long sessions lying on the couch. Naturally I turned to my bookshelf to find something I hadn't devoured quite yet. As of last night, I've read 1024 pages this week: a non-fiction account of WWII, and Sepulchre, a page turning, run-of-the-mill novel set in France.

The highlight was definitively the WWII book. While I do love history, wars have never been of particular interest to me, and I’m not exactly sure how this book landed on my shelf. Possibly from one of my British Council colleagues who, upon leaving, distributed their book collection. Or it may have come from a vide grenier (garage sale) we went to last summer and found a treasure trove of National Geographics and books in English. Regardless, I’m glad this one found its way here.

Forgotten Voices of the Second World War, compiled and edited by Max Arthur, is 474 pages of extraordinary detail and heart wrenching realism in the form of oral account of survivors of WWII. As told by British schoolchildren, Americans on the Italian front, prisoners of war in Japanese camps and even German Luftwaffe pilots, each account jumps out at you from the page, and the book goes by incredibly quickly. These narratives are stored in the Imperial War Museum Sound Archives, and Arthur managed to tie them together to make a chronological and personal, if somewhat incomplete, account of WWII. The pictures chosen to illustrate the book amplify its impact, often official portraits of the very same people whose words you are reading, or scenes of daily life during the war.

[page 24, taken from Amazon Look Inside!]

I found it refreshingly interesting to read about the war from a mostly British perspective; the only instance where mostly American soldiers were interviewed was during the Italian campaign, otherwise it was strictly focused on where the Brits were involved. I never knew there was a significant campaign in Myanmar (then-Burma) against the Japanese, with many Indian soldiers fighting alongside the British, and another in North Africa. 

Aside from the historical tidbits that I appreciated, the voices of those interviewed come out loud and clear; it so often seemed they were relating things that happened just the other day, not decades prior. The individuality of the events experienced by common people simply trying to make it through the war was incredibly powerful. Commoners make up the world but don’t often make up the history books.

[page 8, taken from Amazon Look Inside!]

More compelling than anything I can say, here are a few vignettes:

Karin Busch                                                      
German schoolgirl in Dresden                                                                    
As America came into the war and things became harder for the German people, the more resolved the German population became. People felt that the war had to be won. German people were not politically free-thinking. In England, everyone had their newspaper, people read papers with opposing views, people discussed politics in the pub and people generally tried to form their own opinions. In Germany, it was far more important that one’s house was kept tidy. All politics was left to the politicians, so the country and the mass of people followed their leader. [page 155]

Sword Beach, 8.40 am, D-Day. Commandos of the 1st Special Service Brigade land at the La Brèche area, accompanied by Brigadier the Lord Lovat to the right of the column and, nearest to the camera, still aboard, the  brigade bagpiper, Bill Millan. [page 317]

Private James Bramwell
224 Parachute Field Ambulance, RAMC  [fighting in Normandy]                              A chap was brought in with the top of his head blown off, brains spilling out into the stretcher. The MO look one look at him. I said, “Is there anything we can do?” He shrugged. So I gave him a lethal shot of morphine. When the MO came back, I told him what I’d done. He said, “It’s OK, you did quite right. There was nothing we could do.” I’m sure there were many others like these, but we did not talk about them. [page 333]

[page 20, taken from Amazon Look Inside!]

Sylvia Townson                                                                                             Civilian in London     
We had a party on VE day. They must have closed off Fernhead Street because they had a bonfire in the middle of the road. There was lots of food because everyone gave something towards it off their coupons. I remember my father entered me for the talent contest. I belted out “You are my Sunshine”. I came second. [page 431]

The First.

And voila, I'm making a third entrance into the blogging world. 

Though I've considered starting up a blog in which to note down my thoughts for many years now, the impetus just was never there. But lately I've been bugging my family with long, drawn out emails about traditional Moroccan holidays full of pictures, sending my mom things for her blog, and wishing my Flickr had a space for thought-sharing, so I guess now is the time. The more I see my friends be able to express themselves in their own little corner of the web, the more I realized how I've really ached to do the same. 

I enjoy writing, but don't write hardly as often as I should. This quote that once I found in some long-forgotten place in the web and have saved for many years, sums it up nicely:

The act of writing is the act of discovering what you believe.      --David Hare

That being said, I process as I write, so while I'll do me best to remain comprehensible, forgive me if I'm ever not.

For those of you who have lost touch with what's up in my life right now, or who don't know me, here's a little intro, past to present.

I guess I was always a bit spicy!

With my three beautiful sisters. I reserve every right to brag 
about them as often as possible, and trust me, they deserve it.

More siblings, two of the three brothers. 
Yes, I'm the shorty in the family.

And the missing one, donning a gift from Morocco. 
Somehow we've managed to not take a picture of all 
seven of us for quite a while now. Oops.

I lived in Texas, Kansas, Brazil, New Jersey, Nebraska, and South Dakota as a child, growing up with three brothers and three sisters and a Brazilian mom, and homeschooling on and off. After spending much of my senior year of highschool homeschooling while living with relatives in Brazil, I made my way to study comparative world history at the University of Notre Dame. 

Thanks to ND's Center for Social Concerns, I spent 2 summers doing service projects, one in Albuquerque working at the Boys and Girls Club, and one in Sao Paulo, Brazil. I was beseeched upon to write a blog for the latter, so you can waste some time reading my past ramblings of that very interesting summer here if you wish. (Teaser: a large part of my work was with drug mules, all women, mostly Africans, who got caught at the airport and were thrown into the Brazilian prison system for on average 4 years. I visited them, wrote a guide to prison life for the new inmates after many interviews, helped them correspond with their families, and lived in a halfway house with many on parole. But I promise you nothing about the quality of writing.)

After that I spent my junior year of college wandering around France, writing a sparsely updated and somewhat boring blog (have you got the feeling yet that my previous attempts left me less than inspired? Well third time's the charm, right?), exploring a bit of Europe on a tiny budget, taking pictures of beautiful places, trying to learn French, and meeting my now husband! 

Long story short, I finished up one last semester at ND, graduated in January 2011 a semester early and promptly moved to Casablanca, Morocco with Othman, who was then in the States meeting my family. 

We've been living here almost 3 years now, and got married this past August! We live in a nice little apartment in Casablanca with our two turtles, Chomper and Sparkle. I'm an English teacher at British Council where Americans are sorely outnumbered, and thus have picked up many British-isms (at first I wrote "flat" instead of apartment, oops), and he's a quality control engineer at a big Moroccan mineral water company. Our life is simple, but happy.

Turtles!! Sparkle is the little one, and Chomper is about 
the size of my palm. I guess technically they're tortoises. 
Othman's caption: "He chomps, she sparkles!"

For all wedding photos, credit goes to the lovely Emily Ann Photographer.

My interests: taking pictures of the little things, gluten-free/paleo/GAPS baking, becoming a more effective teacher, reading voraciously (especially historical fiction and nonfiction), writing poems that I think are mediocre but am told are good.

His interests: cars and driving them, computers, enjoying bad TV shows ("for the right reasons" he says) and some good ones too, discovering international reggae bands (and exposing my brothers to reggae covers), having luscious, beautiful, curly hair.