This is hilarious.
Month: March 2016
We usually think of our mothers in the context of how wonderful they are to us. They made us who we are. We could have never been ourselves without them. They are the most loving creatures on earth. You get my point.
Today, on Mother’s Day, I want to step away from celebrating the wonderful Rula Dallal in her scope as my mother, and instead celebrate my unbelievable luck of having this amazing woman in my life.
My mother is an artist. When we were children, she taught art at schools and sold thousands of dollars’ worth of her beautiful paintings. Her appreciation of painting and art as well as her superb skills positively affected the lives of hundreds of people, thanks to her colorful murals on the walls of homes and schools.
My mother is a philosopher. When I think of her, I always imagine my her buried in a bunch of hardcover philosophy books, with a notebook and a highlighter, wearing her reading glasses. When I was a kid, I used to love listening to her debates on existence, on being, on knowledge, on everything.
My mother is a humanitarian. With her counseling, she has helped hundreds of people lead better lives. She is so patient, so kind, and so wise. She listen, she supports, and she gives back advice, whether she knows these people or not, with no judgement.
My mother is an entrepreneur. She started her own business a few years ago, and she is always running around making business deals, from meeting to meeting to meeting to meeting. It takes so much courage and perseverance every day, to do so.
My mother is the most fun person I know. When I was a kid, I always used to think that her ability to enjoy the moment so completely and unabashedly came with age. Then I became an adult and realized that it isn’t about age… it’s about my mother. She can do what most people can’t.
She is wise. She is fun. She is loving. She is brilliant. She is kind. She is strong. She is supportive. She is creative. She is loved.
That’s my mother, my amazing mother, who is so unbelievably wonderful in every sense of the word. An me? I’m just so lucky to have her.
Happy Mother’s Day, mama. I love you.
We learn to use Arabic bread as a utensil from the day we’re born. I never thought about how freakin’ weird that is for non-Arabs until a short while ago, when a friend visiting the Arab world for the first time had a hard time having dinner with us.
It was really freakin’ weird for me, too. What do you mean you don’t know how to scoop that labaneh? No, you can’t eat zaatar with a fork – you must dip it in oil first then in zaatar. Shoving the bread in your mouth separately from the cheese really defeats the purpose of this whole dinner. Come on… it’s not THAT hard.
Of course, it makes sense… it’s like using chopsticks in East Asia. When I went to South Korea, I was totally awed by how Koreans can eat ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING with chopsticks, really fast. I mean, I’m really good with chopsticks, but you know, with regular food like sushi, noodles, or stir fry. I certainly can’t slurp my soup with chopsticks.
I guess it’s the same thing with Arabic bread?
As I was having my scooping breakfast of hummus this morning, I started wondering (and googling).
Do all Arabs scoop their food with bread, or is it something Levantine? Do any other cultures have similar eating habits? Is is actually harder than it seems to us, given that we were raised scooping? I didn’t find any interesting answers on the Internet, but I did find a blog with amazing illustrations of how to scoop bread. Looks hard, doesn’t it?
Googling images also shows that the Internet absolutely does not understand eating with Arabic bread.
Searching for “Dipping with pita”:
Searching for “Eating with pita”:
Searching for “Scooping with pita”:
The world is totally missing out. Must start a crusade to spread proper pita love.