The Addictive Secret of Homemade Tabouleh

This tasty mix of parsley, tomatoes, onions, bulgur, lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper, this essential Lebanese Sunday salad that always tastes better at home, with a shot of Arak, has to have a secret!

Fattouch may sometimes taste better in a restaurant, but never tabouleh; we all know that “Mom’s tabouleh is the best”. And in my opinion, the reason must be more than just habit or motherly love; it is definitely a secret ingredient, one that is never communicated in cookbooks, or in online recipes. But it has to be related to mothers; a secret that has only been communicated from mother to daughter (or daughter-in-law) for decades.

Last Sunday, while I was enjoying my Sunday tabouleh, the secret was revealed. I don’t know why, but I have been really enjoying food lately; I think I developed a stronger sense of taste. And last Sunday, I sensed a taste that has always been there, but this time, I could identify it; it was sugar! Yes, sweet, sinful, addictive, and calorie-intensive sugar. And I had to ask Mom!

Surprisingly, when I did, she nodded discretely. I think she was embarrassed that I found her secret. She told me later (after lunch) that she once had a big quarrel with Dad because he thought she was mistakenly putting sugar instead of salt. She added that sugar is sometimes added to balance all ingredients and that both my grandmas did it!

I guess Mom had her reasons not to tell, what is your mother’s excuse? Next time you’re enjoying your mother's tabouleh, try identifying this sweet taste and if you do, do not hesitate to ask. But make sure to do it discretely because she may always deny it in public.

So, how does your mother prepare the tabouleh? Extra sugar? Extra Virgin oil? Or just extra care and love?

Pine Harvesting - Something to Do for Liberation

Last Wednesday, May 25^th, was Liberation Day in Lebanon. And while my father and my sister-in-law had work, my mother, my brother, and I were celebrating a different kind of liberation, one that includes hard labor and nature's beauty.

Dad's car (Until recently, this was my car on the weekends)

We took Dad’s car and went to Mom’s village. There, the pine trees needed to be harvested and this isn’t an easy affair. While one of us had to climb the trees, certainly not Mom (nor me), the others’ job was to find and collect the cones once they hit the ground (and avoid getting hit on the head with a fallen one).

The old shaky ladder that my brother bravely used for climbing

But the problem is that I took the camera along, and the place was so fascinating that it was craving for photos. And who am I to ignore the call of nature. I was too busy snapping photos that I lost most of the pine cones between the bushes.

Mom's village viewed from under the pine trees

The day was a well needed day off, and the little work I had to do, and the cuts and bruises, were greatly rewarded by the serenity of the place.

However, two things fascinated me there; the first is the number of wild flowers found in this little spot. And the second was a huge rock with old eroded inscriptions on it. Mom told me that this rock has been there forever even her grandparents didn’t know who wrote on it.

This rock with the fairly visible writings. And it's around 4 meters tall

So I put some dirt on the rock in an attempt to make it readable. Did it work?

Same rock with dirt revealing the inscriptions

My guess is that it says PIADA (which may mean Lebanese Bread in Italian or Greek - Wikipedia) followed by a circle (the shape of the bread). What do you think?

In the meantime, I leave you with some photos I took that day...

Confessions of a Lebanese Driver

You know how everyone keeps talking about how reckless Lebanese drivers are and how dangerous driving in Lebanon is. Well, yesterday when I was driving to Gemayzeh for a drink, something hit me! It wasn’t a car, or a pedestrian (or an unidentified flying object). It was An Idea! A dangerous one.

I noticed that while I’m normally a peaceful and quiet guy, behind the wheel I become someone else, an emotionless beast reacting violently towards the smallest incident. Yes, it’s like this big metal shield of a car gives me power to be invincible!

Now there’s no need to start critisizing and classifying me as one of the many reasons for the chaotic traffic system in Lebanon. Let me explain. This power I feel in my car, it’s not uncontrollable rage, it is a power that I use for good or at least what I think is good.

Yesterday I noticed that while driving on the lousy roads we have, I feel the need to rectify every bad encounter. Some examples are driving real slow to obstruct tailgating lunatics, or driving towards maniacs going against traffic, or with blinding headlights, or with really low speeds on the extreme left, or even driving towards pedestrians crossing under a pedestrian bridge! This always involves shouting and cursing.

Yesterday, I figured out, that I am part of this system I hate. I am contributing to the unsafely of Lebanese roads. And I hated myself for that!

While I decided to try changing my reactions towards irritating traffic incidents, I hope that I won’t have to learn one day, the hard way that this metal shield of a car is not as protective as I think, and that it can quickly turn into a killing machine.

How about you? How do you feel behind the wheel?