Apricot Muffins

by Diana 

My father is a bit peculiar when it comes to routine. He likes to have things under control, like for example the grocery shopping which he does every 2 weeks at the same time and place for as long as I can remember, with or without food shortages in the country. Part of his routine is his diet, that for many factors, including a vast amount of genetic disasters, tends to be very limited and strict. Inside his fridge you will always find apricots, as he has 2 every day as part of his breakfast and it's worth saying that the amount of apricots he buys in the supermarket is of course premeditated and carefully planned. He loves his routine though and my brother and I always enjoy trying to break it just to spite him. On his defence, he always alleges that he is too busy working -even on Saturdays- to do things differently, but the true is that it gives him peace and a sense of security which is paramount to his life and comfort. 

Last week, 4 men with guns broke into his home in Caracas, they robbed, threatened, vandalised and tied everyone up, including my 64 year-old dad. This disgraceful event was obviously disturbing for the family and I can't but feel impotent after the invasion and deprivation of freedom that for two hours the people that I love the most had to unfortunately experience because of the sad socio-economic and political conditions of the country that we call home. What frustrated me the most, for what it symbolises it is the fact that my father told me disheartened that these men shamelessly ate the apricots from the fridge during the assault to his property, topping up their vandalism with humiliation. 

This is the misfortune that not only my dad faced, but everyone else in the country does, where nowhere is safe anymore, not even your own home and you just have to unjustly accept that everything you build everyday with effort and honest work, can be snatched overnight, including your own life. And I don't know about you but I think this is completely unacceptable.

What I admire the most about my father is that in less than a week he has fixed all the damages, used his good sense of humour to cheer up everyone around him, including me on the other side of the Atlantic, and left that ugly robbery chapter behind. He also went back to the supermarket and stocked up his fridge with apricots. There is no other choice but to move on he says. This recipe is of course for him. 

Enjoy!

© The Teaspoon

Matooke with Chicken Stew and Sautéed Vegetables

by Diana and Julie

It is not a novelty to say that African, Latin-American and Asian food traditions have many ingredients in common because, after all, we share the same imaginary equator line. Our gorgeous and frequently envied -by the British- climate allows crops like plantain, corn and cassaba to grow in abundance, becoming the 'daily bread' in the dining table of millions of families across many countries. Although food and good weather are of course exotic elements to share intercontinentally, we also have one plague in common that is capable of destroying the lives of thousands of people every year in those countries. Mosquitoes are the most dangerous animals on the planet and malaria is one of their many unfortunate legacies.  

This week's post is a courtesy from my dear friend Faith Wilkinson (née Kimuli), who has suffered and luckily survived malaria in more than a few occasions when she lived in the kingdom of Bunyoro in Western Uganda. Uganda is the country with the worldwide highest incidence of malaria and one of its typical dishes is Matooke accompanying beef/chicken/fish stew, served with vegetables or rice.

We are sharing this recipe today to support the fundraising campaign of Malaria Mission and their creation of an innovative way to fight this plague, reduce the impact of this disease and potentially save millions of lives. Their idea is targeting the malaria mosquitoes to prevent the spread of the disease. And let’s be honest, we all hate mosquitoes, don’t we? 

Let's help these culinary traditions to be preserved, not in a book or a blog like this written by strangers, but mouth to mouth, from parents to children who don't need to become survivors of their own living conditions.

© The Teaspoon