About the Rambler 
Welcome to my ramblings on dinner & drink, people & places, our planet’s health & the future of food. I’m a journalist, author and media trainer. My kitchen forever smells of garlic and curry. And much like my mother, I start thinking of dinner long before breakfast….
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On May 15th, 2012 
I waited a month, and then patience grew thin. I had to taste those lemons! We were leaving soon, and I couldn’t take off without making one last tajine with a twist of homemade pickled lemon.
I opened the jar to a nose-clearing waft. If you’ve smelled preserved lemons, you’ll know what I mean. One friend likens the aroma to Lysol—an unfortunate comparison, as I’m sure the pickled lemon came before the household cleaner. But now we’re left with such associations, which really detract from the monumental scent of this lovely ingredient. So don’t be put off by your first whiff. These lemons are very good things.
We were entering that home stretch of last-minute meals and final BBQs before our departure. I was trying to rid the kitchen of ingredients, knowing we would be away several months. So I started pulling ingredients from the shelves and brainstorming ideas for a “kitchen-sink tajine” with a pound of ground lamb I had in the freezer.
I mixed the thawed meat with minced garlic, fresh garden oregano and mint, and a heaping handful of Ras el hanout. The meatballs sat covered in the fridge all day.
That night, I dumped a pile of sliced red and white onions into a drizzle of grapeseed oil in the tajine and fried until tender. I added sliced carrots and a jar of marinara sauce (I think any tomato sauce or fresh tomatoes would do), then plopped the meatballs into the mix and let everything steam in the tajine for several minutes. Then I added a few black olives, a pinch of salt and a dollop of Ras al hanout. When the meatballs had cooked through, I added more chopped oregano and parsley, one full lemon (cut into quarters) and a big glug of the lemon juice.
Served with rice.
There is something magical in the combination of lamb and mint, and it’s transcendental with the addition of homemade pickled lemon. But that’s just my humble opinion. You’ll have to try it for yourself and tell me what you think.
On May 13th, 2012 
We drove west as far as we could, then turned south to Carmel. We parked the car, braced for the wind, and set our feet into the warm, white sand.
I took pictures of patterns on the beach,
lines and space,
shadows and light.
I joked about the photos being art. But when I look at them after the fact,
I actually like the sharp contrast of mid-day sunshine on objects in the sand.
This one looks like an island, but it’s really a mound of seaweed.
Then we drove farther south along the winding road, peering over the edge where rock walls tumble toward the sea. We stopped for vistas along the way.
We saw nothing in the distance,
but islands up close. And then we turned our heads to watch a California condor soaring past us in silence. What a head. What a bird. I had no time to take a picture, but Jerry got a quick shot that reveals the bird’s tag number: 4.
And then, not far beyond Big Sur, we spotted the only café we’d seen in many miles. It was too late for lunch—we arrived just as the kitchen closed—but we each grabbed a bag of chips and a drink, and we sat to the view. We chatted with a couple of Swedish tourists. They’re taking 3 1/2 weeks to drive the California coast from San Francisco to LA, plus several days in Hawaii. She’s turning 36. She’s dreamed of this trip since she was a child. And now, she said, she’s learning that Californians are are really nice and helpful and pleasant. They were loving this journey far more than expected.
We sat a while, watching the occasional car pass,
then turned back up the coast to do that drive in reverse. We made it back to the house just in time for sunset snacks on the back patio with a faint chill in the air and that satiated feeling of a good day done.
On May 10th, 2012 
I’m sitting on this patio, sipping my coffee, listening to a few tweeting birds and watching the morning sun creep across the flora. This is a fecund place, this California yard. As the sun climbs higher, the yard is bathed in an extraordinarily sweet scent. It’s the tree that made these lemons. Right now, its fruits hang green but its flowers bloom and the bees buzz with diligence as they go about their business.
What you see above are last year’s results. The generous in-laws sent us a box, and then another, and for quite some time our kitchen bin was stuffed with lemons. So I pickled a bunch.
I made two types: classic salted, Moroccan style; and a spicy Indian version. Both recipes hail from Hunter Angler Gardener Cook.
I’d never done this before, but I discovered it’s really quite simple. After several weeks, you’re left with stuffed jars full of the pungent richness required of so many tajines and other recipes from that corner of the world.
Here’s the skinny:
Basic Moroccan Preserved Lemons
Based on the recipe by Hunter Angler Gardener Cook
Ingredients:
Lemons, enough to stuff a jar
Sea salt, enough to stuff the lemons
Wash and dry the lemons, then slice into quarters, almost all of the way through—but not quite. You want the lemons to remain intact. Stuff each one with sea salt. Squeeze lemons into a clean glass jar, top with more salt and cover with lemon juice. Seal the jar by simmering in hot water for 10 minutes. Keep at least three weeks before eating.
Spiced Indian Preserved Lemons
Based on the recipe by Hunter Angler Gardener Cook
Ingredients:
Lemons, enough to stuff a glass jar
1 part fennel seed
1 part cumin seed
1 part black peppercorns
1 part sea salt
Several bay leaves
Sugar to taste
Dried chiles to taste
Toast the fennel, cumin, pepper and salt in a hot, dry pan. (Toasting the salt is not necessary, although I did because I used a Cambodian salt that came straight from the beach without processing. I also find toasting adds depth to the flavor of sea salt.) Crush the toasted spices using a mortar and pestle.
Slice each lemon into eighths without cutting all the way through. Stuff with spice mixture, then jam the lemons into a glass jar. Add bay leaves and cover with lemon juice. Let sit for one week.
After a week has passed, squeeze all juices into a non-reactive pan and simmer. Add sugar and chiles, then the lemons, and continue to simmer for 10 minutes. Return lemons and juices to the jar, cover and keep closed for one month.
Truth out: these lemons remain in our refrigerator. I have not yet cooked with them, but I can attest the spices smelled wonderful while simmering in the pot. We are on the road now. The lemons await our return. I can also attest: the leftover toasted spice mixture tastes great on popcorn!
Stay tuned to find out what I did with the first Moroccan lemon we took from the jar….
On May 7th, 2012
Making preserved lemons (more than a month ago) with fruits from the California yard that grew the tree from which these beauties came.
Folks -
Just a quick post to let you know we are in transit. It’s been a long haul, these past few months, . . . → Ramble More: In Transit
On April 20th, 2012
It’s early, just as the sun begins to creep across the neighbor’s field and in through our bedroom window. We get the call. It’s time.
At least we think it’s time.
We thought it was time last night, when we drove north then east to care for a 3-year-old niece while her Mommy and . . . → Ramble More: Waiting for Baby
On April 4th, 2012
I believe this is how many memorable recipes are born—of accident, of unintended consequences. As you might know, we received a tajine for Christmas, and I’ve had great fun concocting new dishes. We did well with lamb, apricots, prunes and almonds. We didn’t do so well with chorizo and chickpeas (it wasn’t bad, just . . . → Ramble More: The Peanut Butter Accident
On March 23rd, 2012
Apricot blossom, hanging on.
Well, hello, Spring! Welcome to our yard. You’re sneaky, and you caught us off-guard. We’ve been so engrossed in this thing called WORK, we haven’t had a chance to fully absorb you yet. Just a few more days, and we will be free from this task (oh please, . . . → Ramble More: Dear Spring:
On March 7th, 2012
A fried fish served at a restaurant in Sepon, Laos, near the old Ho Chi Minh Trail, in a region that was sprayed with herbicides during war.
In the past seven years of research on unexploded ordnance (UXO) in Laos, we’ve often wondered about the safety of foods we’ve eaten and encountered . . . → Ramble More: Dining with Dioxin
On February 28th, 2012
Just a photo of oranges I have loved and hoarded for quite some time. I had asked Jerry for a picture of citrus to go with a story I’d planned to write about the history of orange juice (a new-ish invention, relatively speaking), Fair Trade farmers in Brazil, and the fungicide fiasco that has . . . → Ramble More: Orange Light
On February 21st, 2012
Would you like guacamole with your dim sum? Tortillas with your hotdogs? Apparently, this place has it all.
We laughed when we spotted the shop while waiting for a red light. But it shouldn’t surprise us—everywhere we look in Albuquerque, we find funky things. We find little shops (like the Dhaka Bazaar) and eateries . . . → Ramble More: Funkytown
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