Isn’t it? I’ve suddenly been reminded of that, as life and law school have caught up with me.

And really, when did this become exclusively a food blog? Come on, brain. You can churn out more stuff than pasta and potatoes. It’s time for some catharsis.

I realize that I’ve been coasting for a while – not slacking….law school doesn’t let you slack – but letting languish what used to be an active mind always talking to itself in art and poetry. Maybe my brain got so full of growing up, into law school and family, that the carefree poetry had to slow down for a while.

And, of course, I can’t do anything spontaneously. I’m not wired like that. So I carried my journal around with me for a couple of weeks, planning out my “first day back” entry in my mind. Two nights ago, I finally started writing again. It felt amazing, like a tap had been opened and a river of emotion and thought was flowing in ink all over the page. Will those entries end up here? Probably not in their entirety, but I suppose food will have to share the spotlight with prose.

The picture above is one of my favorites in all respects. I had gone for a walk after a light fall rain, capturing by camera all the multicolored thoughts-in-nature around me. At the bottom of a hill, this stone sat in the middle of the road. It seemed to me that he was contemplating the great journey ahead of him – the long climb, the many of his tiny steps it would take to get him there. But in the distance, there was hope – a brightness beyond…and alongside, the colorful support of fall trees.

Alhamdulillah. Things have a way of working out, even though it takes time and work. But such is life. Crazy, isn’t it?

- update – yeah, um. definitely didn’t follow up on this. sorry. -

Mr. Malik is a king of shawarma sandwiches. His kingdom is a number of shawarma shops across Damascus, and I had the priviledge of visiting one of the Malik Shawarma shops in the Jami’a Abu Noor district for a late night snack.

Shawarma is a very simple and very delicious meal – chicken marinated in special house spices and roasted vertically on a spit, then sliced and wrapped into hot pita bread. That’s it!

There’s not much more stuffed into a shawarma sandwich than the chicken – it’s really all about the slow-roasted, savory, tender chicken. Sometimes there is a layer of french fries and/or spicy sauce and/or a tahini garlic yogurt sauce, but the chicken is the star.

Mr. Malik, like most chefs, would not tell me anything about his secret house blend of spices, or how he gets the hundreds of pieces of chicken in perfect layers on the spit. “That’s the secret of the trade!” he told me.

When you ask for a sandwich, the guy will slice chicken off of the spit in thin slices. And do you know what he does next? Do you? Next, he lets the chicken slices sit….in the juices….that have been dribbling….off of the spit….all day long. The chicken gets all soaked and yummy and moist in the savory juices. And then, when he wraps the chicken into the pita bread, the bread soaks up all the juices from the chicken.

Midnight run to shawarma shop + strawberry milk from a classic Damascus juice shop (pictures below) + good Kung Fu move + family = awesome.

My dad bought a camera when I was born, a Nikon in a black leather case. It went with him everywhere, so needless to say, we have my entire childhood in photographic print. Drooling, crawling, walking, bathing, first day of school, school plays – he didn’t leave anything out. And my dad is a phenomenal photographer. He finds all the right angles, makes all the right compositions, finds the perfect scenes filled with perfect poses and action and color.

I think the biggest photography inspiration I’ve learned from my dad was the pleasure of sharing pictures with friends and family – looking at each one closely with awe and enjoyment, talking about it before moving onto the next one. Since my childhood, I remember that my dad used to take slides as well as print photos, and we’d spend hours with family and friends in a dark room marveling over pictures of community events, travels abroad, and family reunions.

I’d have to say that my second inspiration was my friend Ayesha, who often manages to be looking through a lens for at least half the time I am with her (and she’s made a career of it, too). With my dad, I was always on the receiving end of the picture. But Ayesha inspired me to look into the little black square, through the lens, click! and be amazed and pleased with what came out on the other side. She notices big things, like landscapes, but she also notices the little things like the shape and color of a flower. Ayesha showed me how looking through different angles can tell a completely different story – maybe from the side instead of from the front, or between bars instead of behind them. As I was learning my own way around a camera, I used to think – “how would Ayesha do this?”

My “drug dealer” would have to be my husband, Ameir. He got me a Canon EOS Rebel Xt and a 50 mm portrait lens. He’s also always sending me photography tips and tricks that he comes across online, and is a constant source of encouragement (and more drugs, i.e. camera equipment).

When I photograph friends or family, I think of what goes through my mind when I look through a family photo album. Seeing pictures of my grandparents, my parents, and my other family brings back beautiful memories of the events or people depicted in that little rectangle. It’s surreal when I remember being there in that scene and can fill in details of what made me laugh just then, why I’m that face, or what event brought all those people together. For pictures I don’t recognize, there’s always a surreal world, imagining what’s happening just outside the edges of that lens.

This is what I love most about photography - the thrill of creating and capturing the perfect picture that creates memories and wonderment for people who look at the final result, and hopefully making them take pleasure in a little detail they’ve never noticed before. The joy is in everything that goes into producing that final little rectangle – composing the scene, choosing an angle and a focus, balancing colors, shapes, and textures. Capturing a moment, an expression, telling a story with just one frame – it’s a quest that I love to undertake every time my camera is in my hand.

It’s not the personal praise (although that’s nice too) but the reactions that most encourage me to continue- the smiles, the big eyes, the gasps. When a picture I take makes someone happier, the little click! was worth it.

In honor of my new gallery, still in the works: http://gallery.me.com/taiyyaba

BUT. There is one kind of chickpea food that I really do enjoy, almost every time.

“Wait, Cup of Tea,” you say. “Those look like donuts.” Well, authentic falafel like you can get in Syria have holes in the middle so that the little patty cooks evenly. Plus, you can also stick them on your index finger and eat around it (come on, you were thinking it. I also used to do that with Bugles. Remember those?)

Falafel is the plural of “filfil,” which means “pepper” in Arabic. The little golden brown, crunchy-on-the-outside, soft-and-savory-on-the-inside patties are popular at breakfast by themselves, or for other meals/snacks wrapped into a pita. The hearty, earthy taste and crunch of the little falafel rounds is highlighted by the fresh cucumber, tomato, and sour-sweet pickled radishes. Top it all off with a special sauce and….oh my…..you’ll miss it as soon as you walk away.

(All the pretty pictures won’t fit on the main page, so click for the rest of the post!)

While Ameir and I were in Syria, we stayed with my friend Maryam (who also happens to be Ameir’s sister, but she was my friend before she was my sister-in-law). She took me to the corner falafel shop, called “Falafel An-Noor,” The Falafel of Light (yeah. that was really the name. See the sign?). There’s usually a falafel shop on every street corner, churning out thousands of these little yummies per day.

I asked the two cousins who were working at the family shop if I could take some pictures and if they’d tell me how they make the falafel. With classic Syrian hospitality, they obliged, repeating “Ahlan wa Sahlan” (“You’re our family, welcome!”) the whole way through.

Mohamad, the falafel maker, told me that he soaks dried chickpeas in water overnight, then grinds them into a paste with garlic, parsley, salt, and cilantro. Then, he fills the paste into a little falafel mold and pushes the patty into oil to fry. When they float to the top and get golden brown, he takes them out and passes them to his cousin Ahmed.

Ahmed puts the fresh, hot falafel onto big rounds of thin pita bread, mashing down the falafel a little to spread them evenly. He adds layer by layer of colorful garnishes: cucumber, tomato, and hot-pink pickled radishes. (These are also the things that come packed in little bags when you buy falafel for breakfast). He adds a sprinkle of sumak, shattah (a spicy chili sauce), and then tops the whole thing off with a generous drizzle of garlicky tahini yogurt sauce.
Ahmed wraps up the pita and hands it to you with an icy-cold Master Cola. (It tastes just like Coke!) Ahhh…icy cold. Can’t get any better than this!

Ameir IM’s me today from work.

Ameir: “I think I should come home for lunch.”
Me: “Aww. Is it because you love me?”
Ameir: “Yes, of course.”
Me: “Or is it because your new iMac just got delivered?”
Ameir: “Uhh…..”

That’s right. After months of begging and pleading, he finally got his iMac (as an anniversary and graduation gift so he can justify it). It was delivered this morning, and I know I won’t be able to peel him away from it for at least a week for anything. This is his fourth wife (me, his iPhone, his Macbook, and his iMac), so now he’s done.

Just look at the joy on his face. Makes it worth it .

And, pray tell, which camera took that beautiful, clear picture? Why, it’s my Canon, equipped with *my* anniversary gift – a 50mm lens! You may rejoice.

Alhamdulillah .