Inspired by the fact that it is March and still 50 below outside and by an article in the NY Times about Apalachicola and the Forgotten Coast of Florida , I made myself a little southern feast the other day. Consisting of cornbread, cheese grits, and boiled peanuts, it was the most wonderful thing I have tasted in a long while. When I tasted the first boiled peanut, tears of joy appeared in my eyes.
And I am going to toot my horn a little, I made the cornbread from scratch—no self-rising cornmeal in Morocco—and the boiled peanut were not made using the green peanuts like back home—I had to soak regular peanuts for a day.
Switching subjects…Tuesday was my 6 month anniversary of arriving in Morocco. The time really does fly. I didn’t even realize it had been 6 months until Bri told me. On Tuesday, I did what I do every day. I walked around town and had tea. Yesterday, I went to the hammam which is one of the most Moroccan experiences there is. And I have learned my lesson…I pay for protection. The women who works in the hammam now watches out for me and makes sure people don’t stare or get mad at me for committing a faux pax. The extra security is much appreciated.
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