Survival of....the freezer burn?

The impending threat of Tropical Storm Ernesto sent me home early yesterday. Sent me home to an empty house. After the tedious shutter closing job was done I was left in virtual darkness at 3pm. What was I to do to wile away the time? Or more importantly, what was I going to eat for dinner? It was time to discover what had been left behind in the move. I peered into oblivion, more commonly known as the freezer. After my eyes adjusted to the blinding arctic scene I discovered that my options were bleak to say the least. Sure, I had plenty of frozen berries for rich smoothies or delectable blueberry muffins. Alas, my blender and baking supplies were now 5 hours away acclimating to their new home. I rummaged past the berries and pulled out a sole salmon steak. It would have to do. I set it aside to defrost and dashed off to watch t.v. (which thankfully I had left behind). I tuned in to my favorite channel (have you guessed it yet?), the Food Network. Nothing like hours upon hours of deliciousness to make one inspired. And if inspiration never comes, you are guaranteed to be hungry enough to eat anything thrown in front of you!

In today’s consumer driven and wasteful society, it is a rarity to eat every last morsel in the fridge or freezer before restocking. How many of you have opened up the fridge or freezer seeking out your next meal only to exclaim, “There’s nothing to eat!” I myself have the awful habit of letting good food go to waste. “Oh, that meat’s been sitting there for days, no that fish has been in the freezer for months, hmm those tomatoes are looking a little wrinkled.” Guilty as charged. Now that I have moved all of my non-perishables to Jacksonville, I have no choice but to clear out what’s left in the house. I have been in this situation only once before, last year when hurricane Wilma hit. Having been to Costco just the week before, our freezer was chock-full of goodies. With the power out and the food defrosting, we had to act fast. And by act, I mean eat. We teamed up with our delightful neighbors (they had a BBQ) and feasted each night on gourmet spreads.

Now, once again, I am faced with the task of eating each and every morsel left in the fridge and freezer. It truly is a thorny scenario, but one which I face with fierce determination and a rumble in my tummy.

Update: The spices are VERY happy in their new home.

The move

As I grudgingly packed away my beloved spices last night, I pondered if they would be happy in their new home. When would they next see the light of day? Or more apropos, the peach marbled flesh of a salmon filet? Would they miss me, as I would them?

Each bottle I wrapped brought back a memory of times past. The fennel and herbs de provence transported me back to the markets in the South of France, where I found myself ogling the abundance of spices and struggling to pick just a few. The za'atar took me to Tel Aviv where I was tearing apart pita za'atar from Abu Lafia whilst strolling along the ancient streets of Jaffo. The saffron brought me to Barcelona where I feasted on deep yellow saffron infused tapas and Paellas. My collection of spices makes me feel somewhat akin to Angelina Jolie, they're my exotic babies that I have collected during my travels around the world.

I am trying to picture where my babies will live in our new home. They are used to having the run of the place, I am sure this time will be no different.

And so the journey begins...

As so often happens in life, one door closes while another one opens. My last days as a South Floridian are numbered. My last few days as an employed person are drawing to a close. It seems as though all I have time for these days is wrapping...I am wrapping up business at work, wrapping up china at home and wrapping up arrangements for the move. And before I know it, it will be time to unwrap every meticulously packed item in our boxes. Well it only seemed fitting that this blog should be born amidst another new journey in my life.

My name is Merav, and I am an addict. My addiction started long ago, in The Hague to be exact. After school I would rush upstairs to the family room and watch my favourite program, Ready Steady Cook. While my mother putted around in the kitchen below and steady wafts of savoury scents filled my nose, I sat transfixed watching the TV. How did they do it? These chefs were pure genius, able to concoct three or more dishes out of their secret bag of food in all but 20 minutes! From exotic fare to comfort food, nothing foiled these guys. I was hooked. I had to have it. Food. It dawned on me that it was no longer something that was purely a necessity. It was art; beauty, expression, flavour, colour, depth, texture. It was addictive. I began to experiment in the kitchen. Wednesday night, that was my night to shine! The kitchen became my stadium and my family the audience. My mother stood by, dropped jaw and all, to watch her little girl work up a frenzy in the kitchen. No pot or pan was spared, no surface untouched by the various ingredients spilling out of their containers. I was in my element. No longer the picky eater from yesteryear, I was a full-blown foodie now! Credit must be given where credit is due, so I must thank my mother for being the wonderful chef that she is. Dinner at my house was like eating at Epcot center, a different cuisine every night. Mexican, Thai, Japanese, French, Spanish. You name it and she cooked it. My dad is a smashing cook in his own right…to this day I dream about his Israeli salad and French fries. Thanks to my parents my inner cook was always there, it was just buried deep inside and anxiously awaiting it’s debut. From that first meal forward, food has been my high. My name is Merav, and I am an addict.