I now have my own pink shisha pipe. For the uninitiated, it's kind of a hookah pipe, like the caterpillar smoked in Alice in Wonderland. Before moving to Salalah, I thought these pipes were used for nefarious substances (such as the aforementioned caterpillar smoked). They aren't. Instead, they are filled at the top with lovely carcinogenic tobaccos, flavored with apple, mint, watermelon, grape..all kinds of things.
It's brilliant. How I love it. I never used to touch the stuff. They looked difficult, and the women smoking them far more exotic than myself. Beautiful Arabic women, makeup always exquisite, sitting and smoking a hookah and chatting about...whatever. It's still mostly gibberish to me. I smoked only occasionally and usually knocked the pipe over in front of everyone, because I am basically a graceless dolt. And I was warned. A Lebanese friend told me if I smoked very often, I would want to tap a vein. Woe unto me, how right she was.
It happened when one of my besties from England came to visit. We went out with the husbands just about every night, because showing her a good time during her visit was priority one. I had a shisha every time. People, it's like crack. Erm..not that I would actually KNOW what crack is like. But I've heard. After she went back home, I started jonesing hard. Oh my dear heavens. It's been a trial and a tribulation for my husband. I beg. I plead. Finally, I got an overtime check from the college and had to go buy my own. They aren't that expensive...just kind of needless. My husband accompanied me, and advised. I insisted on a big one with a pink and blue one and a matching blue wand, because with my new eyebrows, I am all about style baby. All about style. And here I sit, huffing away like near professional, little plastic smoker thingie clenched between my teeth while I write to y'all. My heart could just burst with joy.
According to the CDC (that bastion of joy crushing) smoking hookah tobacco isn't any better for you than cigarettes. The charcoal carries all kinds of crap to your lungs, just like cigarettes do. There is still a high risk or oral, bladder, and lung cancer. I get it. Honestly, it appears it's even worse for me than smoking a pack of cigarettes. But I love it. I love sitting with my Arabic friends and listening to them chatter, then they translate to me the latest Salalah gossip. And now, I am going to sit on the roof in my thobe and watch Mehdi barbecue some fish for dinner. Life is good people. Life is good, if perhaps now a bit shorter. Peace out.
It's brilliant. How I love it. I never used to touch the stuff. They looked difficult, and the women smoking them far more exotic than myself. Beautiful Arabic women, makeup always exquisite, sitting and smoking a hookah and chatting about...whatever. It's still mostly gibberish to me. I smoked only occasionally and usually knocked the pipe over in front of everyone, because I am basically a graceless dolt. And I was warned. A Lebanese friend told me if I smoked very often, I would want to tap a vein. Woe unto me, how right she was.
It happened when one of my besties from England came to visit. We went out with the husbands just about every night, because showing her a good time during her visit was priority one. I had a shisha every time. People, it's like crack. Erm..not that I would actually KNOW what crack is like. But I've heard. After she went back home, I started jonesing hard. Oh my dear heavens. It's been a trial and a tribulation for my husband. I beg. I plead. Finally, I got an overtime check from the college and had to go buy my own. They aren't that expensive...just kind of needless. My husband accompanied me, and advised. I insisted on a big one with a pink and blue one and a matching blue wand, because with my new eyebrows, I am all about style baby. All about style. And here I sit, huffing away like near professional, little plastic smoker thingie clenched between my teeth while I write to y'all. My heart could just burst with joy.
According to the CDC (that bastion of joy crushing) smoking hookah tobacco isn't any better for you than cigarettes. The charcoal carries all kinds of crap to your lungs, just like cigarettes do. There is still a high risk or oral, bladder, and lung cancer. I get it. Honestly, it appears it's even worse for me than smoking a pack of cigarettes. But I love it. I love sitting with my Arabic friends and listening to them chatter, then they translate to me the latest Salalah gossip. And now, I am going to sit on the roof in my thobe and watch Mehdi barbecue some fish for dinner. Life is good people. Life is good, if perhaps now a bit shorter. Peace out.
Rock on with that, rock star.
The cake of the day was a white cake flavored with orange blossom water instead of vanilla. Orange blossom and rose water are very common flavorings in the Middle East, and I wanted to see how that would taste. I heard the cake was fine. I sent it to a friend as a late birthday cake! I have another cake in the oven...I have kept to my cake a day, but due to epic fails with the internet, I didn't do a blog post yesterday. Meh. I will double up on recipes tomorrow. I know you can't wait.
1 cup milk
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup butter, softened
2 cups sugar
3 cups cake flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
5 egg whites
1. Preheat oven to 350°. Grease 3 (8-inch) round cake pans;
line bottoms with parchment paper, and grease and flour paper.
2. Stir together milk and vanilla.
3. Beat butter at medium speed with a heavy-duty electric
stand mixer until creamy; gradually add sugar, beating until light and fluffy.
Sift together flour and baking powder; add to butter mixture alternately with
milk mixture, beginning and ending with flour mixture. Beat at low speed just
until blended after each addition.
4. Beat egg whites at medium speed until stiff peaks form;
gently fold into batter. Pour batter into prepared pans.
5. Bake at 350° for 20 to 23 minutes or until a wooden pick
inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pans on wire racks 10 minutes.
Remove from pans to wire racks; discard parchment paper. Cool completely (about
40 minutes).
Their cake. Not gonna happen. Maybe someday, but not today.
I love bundt cakes. So this is what I did with the batter. The glaze is a simple mix of confectioners sugar, cream, and almond extract.
I realize I am not challenging myself too much with the latest cakes. Perhaps tomorrow. Once I get in a groove, maybe I can approach layer cakes again. Right now, not so much.
Love,
Felicia El Aid
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