A weekend away on Maryland's Eastern Shore

Ah me, three nights and four days away with just T was just what we needed. And the perfect birthday present for him, to boot! I am so grateful to my in-laws for keeping the boys and letting us escape to the Eastern Shore.

We took off late last Friday morning, aiming for St. Michael's, MD. Lunchtime found us near Annapolis, and hunger and a quick Yelp search directed us to Giolitti, an authentic, delicious Italian delicatessen over which I went bananas. Italian radio streamed in the background, and my tonno Italiano sandwich was so good that I not only stopped talking while eating but also, fast forward, made Tom bring me by for another on our way home yesterday. 

sicilian-style tuna, balsamic, provolone, lettuce, and perfect bread

T had a muffaletta on our first pass, and a meatball sub on our second. We also discovered Poppies chocolate-coconut macaroons, an import from Belgium that are like high-brow Girl Scout cookies (the Samoas, aka Caramel D'lights). We ate one box on Friday and now have another in our pantry, as well as some fab pastas, and one ball each of mozzarella di bufala and burrata and a large bag of speck, all imported from Italy, in the fridge. Winning! 

Happy guy who, at the time this was snapped, was still 38. We found this a fitting memorial. Today he's 39. 

If ever you are near Annapolis, haul ass to Giolitti! The only disappointment was their tiramisu which had some sort of flavored cream that neither T nor I liked at all. Like, I refused to take a second bite. Blech. The cannoli, on the other hand, utilized the freshest, crispiest, yummiest shell I've enjoyed in ages. While I am a purist and do not like chocolate in my cream filling, it didn't distract too terribly from this delicacy!

Once checked in to the Inn at Perry Cabin (a very lovely, comfortable, friendly place; we highly recommend if you get a good rate, as did we; too pricey on the regular, in our opinion, unless that matters not, in which case, go forth and enjoy.), we walked the main drag of St. Michael's, putzing and 'sploring (our old-as-we-are nickname for how we like to explore new places) and remembering what it's like to be nothing more than a couple. 

It is so important to take this time for each other, to reconnect in unrushed, unscheduled ways. We played backgammon atop our bed, spontaneously attended the Cava cocktail event being hosted in the library (and met a young couple that happens to know one of our friends who was a groomsman in our wedding; SUCH a small world), went out to eat, napped, watched a movie, read, and got massages.  

a hearty breakfast of quinoa, warm veggies, micro greens, balsamic drizzle, and a fried egg; at the Bartlett Pear Inn

It didn't matter that it drizzled and chilled Saturday as we 'splored the nearby (and charming) town of Easton, for we both fit under one umbrella and could pop into cozy bookstores and galleries and antique shops whenever a storefront caught our eye. 

We could simply roll as if peacefully and purposefully atop a wave, and it was heavenly. 

(The writer critic in me notices that there are three adverbs in the above sentence and not a few in this piece, is exceedingLY vexed about them, but is going ahead anyway.)

steamers and grilled bread; at t at the General Store

Even after fifteen years together, T had no idea that I love scarabs until we came across an ages-old soapstone one in a pop-up antiques market whose name now escapes me. You can't know how perfectly smooth and weighted that little treasure was. I wish I'd bought it. Over brunch, I read to T about scarab symbology and meaning. Funny and delightful to learn new things about someone you've known and been with for so long.

Yesterday, we headed home, stopping a couple times just because we felt like it and for a quick second pass through Giolitti, and then the boys tumbled in, and Nutmeg stretched and purred, and yay for gumbo in the freezer.

I'll head east to the Shore anytime!

Places to stay:
Inn at Perry Cabin, St. Michael's
Bartlett Pear Inn, Easton

Places to eat:
Giolitti Delicatessen, Annapolis
Bartlett Pear Inn, Easton (love the ambiance and food! Tom had a lamb burger that he said was superb)
Stars, Inn at Perry Cabin, St. Michael's (I had a stellar breakfast of Anson Mills grits with rhubarb and raspberry compotes and honey; off the chart good; T had a very solid eggs Benedict on cheddar biscuits)
t at the General Store, Easton (love the atmosphere, food was all presented in artistic but unfussy fashion but ranged from excellent-those steamers-to just OK; I would go back though!)
Ava's Pizzeria, St. Michael's (pizza was better than average but not outstanding, casual/jovial atmo)
Rise Up coffee, St. Michael's and Easton (a job well done)

More lentil wat and my first batch of injera

Last month, I wrote about my Ethiopian friend, Hiwot, and her generosity. She brought me a bag of berbere, her recipe for red lentil wat, homemade injera, AND starter so I could try and make my own. She also directed me to Black Lion market where I bought teff flour, more lentils, and a mitad, the grill on which injera is cooked. 

Hiwot sent me a YouTube video about making injera, and let me tell you, I was intimidated. I mean, the man in the tutorial used a fermentation bucket and an airlock. I can make a pie crust in my sleep, and it's rare that in the kitchen, I pause, put my hands on my hips, and think, "Dang. This is gonna take some time and practice!" 

Injera made me think exactly that.

But I love a challenge, and so with Hiwot's starter and my new flour and a generous dash of "fake it 'til you make it," I ordered a cheap bucket and airlock (great products and service from Bell's General Store, a brewing-oriented company in Kalamazoo, by the way) and got started.

starter

airlock nestled in the fermentation bucket's lid

Injera is a three-part, multi-day process punctuated by lengthy periods of rest time during which the batter ferments (hence the use of the airlock, although Hiwot was like "Huh??" She does NOT use the dang airlock!). If you linger around the batter or crack open the lid of the bucket just a bit, you're whacked with a pleasantly pungent aroma- yeasty, sour...rather what you might expect from fermenting grain and sourdough bread.

after 3 days of fermenting, the batter was actively bubbling!

Injera is unlike any bread I've ever made. The batter is runny, rather like that for pancakes. And Teff is a very fine flour, the brown variety particularly so.

brown teff flour

There's no kneading involved in the making of injera, and ultimately you cook each injera like you would a crepe, batter poured fairly thinly atop a hot griddle-for injera, the mitad-for a brief spell.

mitad off and minus its lid

Mitad heating and with lid

I am very pleased with this grill. It's fabulous to be able to set your desired temperature and know that it will remain steady, a must for such quick, needs-to-be-even cooking. Because everything happened so rapidly once I started making the injeras, I don't have many action shots. But here, you can see the "eyes" of the injera popping open.

eyes forming

That's good. Many eyes, the result of active, successful fermentation, produce the spongy texture that injera is known for. The mouthfeel of good injera is an absolute delight, a chewy, pillowy, yeasty pleasure.

Hiwot's was perfect. Mine was too dense and not as pliable, but for a first go, I'm proud. And perhaps the best part was that the kids enjoyed this whole meal. Will wonders never cease?! I even remembered to reserve some of the batter as starter for my next batch.

injera made from both brown and ivory teff, and red lentil wat

I sent Hiwot all these pictures, and she was, as always, incredibly lovely and supportive. She also sent me the second video in the series of tutorials she's making me. I know my injera will be so much better next time. And meanwhile, lucky me to have this woman as a friend. 

Barbecue shrimp

I am not even kidding, y'all. The hankering I had earlier today for Louisiana barbecue shrimp was off the charts. Luckily I was in the market when this desire struck, so I hurriedly picked up a pound of fresh shrimp and a crusty baguette for sauce-sopping. 

You should always sop good sauce. Do you do that? 

Perhaps you're aware that barbecue shrimp has approximately zero to do with barbecue sauce as you know it. It is, instead, a shrimp-shell stock infused with onion, garlic, bay leaves, Worcestershire, a bit of wine, pepper, salt, and Creole seasoning, reduced to a sauce and mixed with cream and a pat of butter for good measure.

straining the reduced stock

At some point along the way, you quickly cook the shrimp in that ambrosial mess and then serve both in a bowl with a generous hunk of oven-toasted bread.

Note: we did not have enough Worcestershire, so the color of the sauce isn't as richly tinted as usual, but we added some anchovy paste (because umami and also Worcestershire has a fair amount of anchovy in it), and while the depth of flavor wasn't quite as intense as I like, this was still pretty darn good.

shrimp cooking in the hot sauce

Doesn't this look sublime?

It was.

I also saw my friend, Hiwot, and we talked injera. Mine is coming along. Post about that soon!