Well, it all began at the film festival in Paris. We were at the Place d'Italie running for the metro when we saw the man with the hot dome making his bread and slathering it with olive oil and some kind of herb. 'What is it?' I asked him. 'Za'atar,' he replied. I fell in love with the hot bread he pulled from his domed oven grill and I fell in love with his parsley studded taboulé.
Za'atar is a blend of oregano, thyme, savory, sesame seeds and something fantastic called sumac. I buy it when I see it which is rarely. I buy it in great quantities like some kind of Middle Eastern spice addict. I found it in a gourmet market in the backwaters of New Jersey, I found it in Winter Park, Florida and I found it by the Jordan river in Israel. Once you have tasted this mixture on hot Lebanese bread, you are ruined for life.
This blog, I am ambitious, but leery of journals, will be about travel, food, journalism, Roman vestiges and things I find in the French antique and flea markets. Of course, it will evolve and will include other things such as my Don Camillo Cinema Society here in the little Mediterranean village above the turquoise sea.
So, by way of an arcane mission statement:
It is about a dash of ras el hanout, the blend of spices used across North Africa, and a pinch of za'atar mixed with olive oil and spread on hot Lebanese bread. It is the perfect pink cupcake and the mustard, saffron, turmeric yellow of the Merzouga Dunes. It is the editor waiting for the article on the east coast of America and a pomegranate balanced on a windowsill in a mountain village in Turkey. It is a delicate pair of gold wire glasses hanging from a ribbon and a terra cotta handle broken from an ancient Roman amphora on a beach by the Mediterranean. Food, travel, articles and the odd antique letter opener and some pumice stone from Santorini. Oh, not to mention. . .