Bibliophilia and Its Merits

Dickens' David Copperfield:
aesthetically pleasing for more reasons than one.

* * *

"Books are like a mirror.
If an ass looks in,
you can't expect an angel to look out."

Arthur Schopenhauer

* * *

I can almost always remember where and why I bought a book I love.

In the case of H.G. Wells' The History of Mr. Polly, for example, I was at Chelsea & Westminster Hospital in London for an antenatal appointment last November. I can't remember what charity organization it was, but they had set up a used book sale in the middle of the hospital's atrium, and while I waited I perused the titles, hoping to find something exciting to give Matt as a Christmas gift. I left that day with several good books - many of them old, worn copies of European Classics. I knew Matt would enjoy them for their aesthetic value just as much as their content, a bibliophile to the end.

The books I purchased included:

1. The History of Mr. Polly by H.G. Wells; hardcover, green canvas binding with the original light blue dust cover in perfect condition. Published: 1940

2. Old Goriot by Honore de Balzac (English translation); hardcover, navy blue canvas binding with the original ocean blue dust cover and a plastic sleeve over that. Published: 1963.

3. Death in Venice & Other Stories by Thomas Mann (English translation); soft cover, Penguin Modern Classics edition with attractive browning of pages. Published: 1971

4. David Copperfield (our 2nd copy; I couldn't resist the color) by Charles Dickens; hardcover, lime green canvas binding with no dust cover but a hand-written dedication from a headmaster to a school boy in 1948 on the inside cover. Published: No date indicated.

* * *

"The pleasure of reading is doubled when
one lives with another who shares the same books."

Katherine Mansfield

* * *

Matt and I love to read. Granted, Matt takes it to a whole new level. He spends almost every single available non-working, waking moment with his nose stuck in a book: on the tube, on vacation, on the weekend, after dinner, before dinner, when I'm asleep, while I'm distracted doing laundry. As a child, he was the kid whose parents threatened to "take his books away" because he wouldn't go to sleep. I am an occasion-binge reader. I read very randomly and for very random reasons. I find the oddest of books in piles at the Salvation Army and make them my own. My choices are based on whim rather than planned, academic order (like Matt's), and sometimes I go for weeks without picking up a book. Yes, I like to read - no, actually, I love to read - but Matt and his books have a relationship even I can only admire from afar.

For this particular reason, I debated purchasing these four books for Matt that November day at Chelsea & Westminster. Not because I doubted he'd read or like them, but because we came to this country with about 10 books we couldn't live without or hadn't yet read (the other several hundred being holed up in boxes in a Connecticut barn with the rest of our adult possessions) and now, two years later, have nearly 100. Matt and his insatiable habit coupled with my love for old books and random book sales are going to make moving back to the US a pretty interesting and expensive prospect.

Non-book people don't get it. I had a friend come over the other day and say: "Wow you have so many books. I just go to the library so we don't have to keep them around the house." Somehow, I think she missed the point behind why we have books we have. They are not a burden, but rather a physical manifestation of the experiences and self-taught lessons we've shared over the past two years. It always shocks me when people don't share or understand that passion. Then again, sometimes I think Matt would rather give up a vital organ than get rid of his book collection, which is a little extreme.

But, I have to admit, when it comes to certain books, I'm right there with him. :)

* * *

Bibliophilia and its Merits
thoughts on collecting and admiring books


one of our bookshelves in London

4. The Aesthetics of Book Collecting
We love to keep books around the house for many reasons - some practical, some emotional, and some purely aesthetic. I see nothing wrong in feeling that having a book collection gives a room or even a home a certain je ne sais quoi (ok fine, an air of "refined intellectualism" - but I say that in the least pretentious way possible!).

When Matt and I first began sharing an apartment in NYC, one of the things I loved the most was his book shelf and the way he'd organized it. It's not done alphabetically or by color, as some would prefer, but rather by subject and genre, depending on what we have more of. For example, back in NYC we had an entire section devoted to my Greek Philosophy and Architecture books and Matt's Latin Classics from our college days. Here in London, Matt has a section just for his collection of books on Political Theory and dictators and I have my section for romantically-ratty used but classic British novels.

I love to look at the way they are organized - different heights, widths and sizes mish-mashed together. Some upright, some stacked horizontally to break up the monotony. Plus you can usually tell what we've been reading based on the dust covers hovering at the tops of book piles or the occasional empty space.

On the whole, I would dare say our bookshelves are some of the most aesthetically pleasing sections of our apartment. And that's a lot to say for someone obsessed with aesthetics.


3. They All Tell a Story. Pun Intended.
In addition to being nice to look at, smelling good, and offering a wide variety of interesting textures based on binding, books we keep at home all tell a story. Not the one they have inside, but the one about where they were bought, for whom, by whom and for what purpose. Some books remind me of my time in Italy, of my days at University, of a random train ride or a cloudy day at home when I was sick. Some books are gifts I treasure dearly and some I actually even consider pieces of crap I'd rather never touch again (but I keep them anyway because what's life without a little crap to appreciate the good times by?).

Some books take me back to wonderful, enlightening lectures, to intellectual or emotional epiphanies, to rites of passages and days spent reading outloud for no other reason than wanting to be together. Some books have voices, faces, even hands that I can remember vividly. And some are simply books with lives and stories waiting to unfold in a future filled with continued curiosity and new experiences. Promises waiting to be made and days waiting to be lived. I find it delicious to be able to see and feel all this simply by walking into the living room.


2. Wooing with Books: Unorthodox but Effective.
Wooing with books is something Matt and I openly indulge in. Or maybe it's something I indulge in with Matt. Whenever I need to buy him a gift I can't help but feel compelled to buy a book that imparts a thought, a philosophy or a funny passage I know he would like or I'd like to share with him. There has been many a time that I have vicariously lived through my favorite characters and their stories as Matt read a book I gave him. I can think of nothing more romantic (well, maybe not nothing) than sitting down and having a really good, interesting, in depth discussion about a book with my husband. It's one of the reasons I found him attractive when we met, and I find that even now, past our school days, it's one of the more intense glues that holds our relationship together.

We read very different books, but through our distinct tastes and interests, we educate each other. I don't think I'd ever want to spend my time (much less my life) with someone who wasn't interested in constantly learning new things and thinking new thoughts.

It's an unorthodox but highly effective way to woo, IMHO.


1. A Good Book really is like an Old Friend.
One of the final reasons we love books is that they unconditionally and unconfinedly (is that a word?!) offer an entrance or an exit. Whether it's reading the content of the book itself or simply flipping through inner-covers to read heartfelt dedications, books are a way to transport without transporting.

Whenever I buy a book for someone, I make it a point to write when, where and why I've bought it in my dedication. If the book is for myself, I write my name the date and where I read and bought it. It always shocks and delights me to look through these tidbits of information and recall where I was and with whom when I read the gory details of American Psycho or fell in love with Rilke's prose-poetry.

And the best part is, opening a good old book is like coming home. All dog-ears, underlined passages and random bookmarks (business cards, restaurant receipts, flower petals and even bits of packaging) bring an old friendship back to life. That's something I never get tired of. And it makes me happy to dream of the pretty library we'll have one day (when our possessions aren't littered around the globe) where I can sit and meander through a crowd of familiar authors, characters, and locales - my life's journey all in one room.

The nerdy but awesome Classical /
Medieval book labels I got for Matt

* * *

"Until I feared I would lose it,
I never loved to read.
One does not love breathing."

Harper Lee

Starting April with a Zing: Manaeesh bi Zataar

Nothing like a little zataar to add zing to an April day...
image credit

April is a special month in my family. Everyone and their (well, my) mother seems to have been born in April. It's a time when in Texas the weather is still pleasant (read: you can go outside without experiencing immediate and deadly heat exhaustion), the famous Texan wildflowers are blooming, and people are held in a delightful suspense, a pause in bated breath, before the beginning of full-on summer. For these reasons and many aesthetically-pleasing more, I felt April should be started with a zing. How better than with a recipe for an easy and light pizza dough that can be used for one of my favorite Lebanese foods - Manaeesh bi Zataar - ?

When I was ten years old, I recall my mother's Lebanese friends bringing over some miniature pita breads with a dark, strange spice mixture containing sesame seeds on it. They could never quite explain what the spice mixture was made of, but it was enough of a family favorite that the dear Lebanese mother was willing to risk problems with customs in order to smuggle the ready-made treats for her daughter in on the plane from Beirut. They were always generous enough to bring some over for us - and thank God for that, because if I recall correctly, those little pitas were hoarded and devoured with an excitement and greed equal only to that of Augustus Gloop in Charlie and The Chocolate Factory.

This simple but exquisite little snack, along with my traditional Lebanese dress and recipes for things like stuffed grape leaves, real tabbouleh, and fatoush were the first, miniature but nevertheless exciting and delicious insights I was given into the Lebanese culture.

Almost twenty years later, I still dream about that delicious, spicy-sour bread with the long mysterious spice mixture. I've seen it a couple of times at some of my favorite Lebanese restaurants here in London and tried to ask for a name or explanation: sadly, most of the waiters can't tell (or don't know) what the spice mixture is either. It wasn't until my last visit home to Texas that my mother was lucky enough to find a bag of it at an ethnic market. She gave me half (which I promptly stored in my bodega) to use, and I finally did last week when Matt went on his pizza dough kick.

So let's just cut to the chase...

* * *

Matt's Adventures in Pizza Dough and Manaeesh bi Zataar:
What the heck it is and why you should totally try it.

my manaeesh bi zataar,
ready to be devoured by beastly little old me

Making of The Pizza Dough
A couple of weekends ago Matt went on a cooking kick. It was probably spurred on by much grumbling and many puerile refusals to cook on my part due to swollen hands, impending motherhood, and sheer sloth.

Matt doesn't get to cook much, but when he does, he loves to go all out, which is why I find it particularly pleasurable to indulge him and make sure we have whatever ingredients he requires for his usually highly-involved culinary dalliances. In this particular case, he wanted to make his own pizza (personally, I think my Pepe's Pizza post was haunting him). Luckily, the recipe we found and subsequently used was utterly simple and included only ingredients we pretty much always have on hand anyway.

While he was making the dough, we got into a conversation about the Lebanese pizza-thing he'd had at Noura (one of our favorite high-endish Lebanese spots in London) the week before. Even though he didn't, *I* knew exactly what he was talking about when he described the doughy, spicy-soury deliciousness of my childhood and quickly ran to pull my as-of-yet-unused jar of Zataar out of the bodega.


What the heck is Zataar (and what the heck are Manaeesh)?
After phone calls to mom and desperate googling, I finally got my answer: Zataar is a Middle Eastern spice mixture generally composed of sesame seeds, the highly underused (IMHO) Marjoram, Oregano (Marjoram's cousin), and Thyme. Sometimes it also includes sumac, fennel, cumin, dried coriander, or other savory spices to create variation and cater to individual taste.

It is not only common in Lebanese cuisine; the Palestinians, Israelis, and many other Middle Eastern and Arabic cultures know and love Zataar and use it generously to season everything from meats to vegetables, make dips or use as a spread. I was even once handed a "Zataar shaker" at a Persian restaurant to liberally sprinkle over my food in place of salt and pepper. It is in fact so yummy that I could not help but eat it by the large pinch from my personal stash. Matt was a little shocked and appalled, but hey, that's how I roll.

Manaeesh (or Manakeesh) is a plural, Anglicized version of the Arab word for a dough or pastry typical of the Middle East and which can be topped with a plethora of ingredients (usually Zataar, ground beef, or cheese) and is eaten with one's hands, much like Italian pizza. It is, however, typically served at breakfast or lunch and as an appetizer rather than as a main meal. It can be small (less than 3 inches in diameter like the ones we had when I was a kid) or medium sized (like the ones Matt and I indulged in).


Why the heck should you try them?

When you combine Zataar with Manaeesh you get Manaeesh bi Zataar, a food held to be incredibly healthy and a natural stimulant of the brain. You know how your parents used to make you have that power-breakfast on the morning of the SAT? Well this is apparently the Middle-Eastern version. I'm happy to indulge that cultural practice any day.

* * *


Matt's Simple Pizza Dough
to be used for making Manaeesh bi Zataar

Makes Two Medium Pizzas or Four Individual Manakeesh


flattenin' the dough

Ingredients

Pizza Dough
1 tsp active dry yeast
2/3 cup warm water (or just a splash more)
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp salt
olive oil for bowl
1/4 cup semolina

Zataar Topping
4-6 tbsps good olive oil
4-6 tbsps Zataar (or to taste)
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 lemon
salt to taste


Procedure

1. Mix the yeast and warm water in a bowl and allow to stand for 1 or 2 minutes, until the yeast is creamy or dissolved. If it doesn't bubble at all, your yeast is dead: go buy some more!

2. Separately, combine the dry ingredients (flour and salt) and then add the yeast mixture slowly, combining to form a dough.

3. Turn the dough out onto a very lightly floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic, adding more flour or a splash more water to ensure the dough is not too dry or too wet (this should take about 10 minutes).

4. Lightly coat a large bowl with olive oil and put the dough in. Cover with cling film and put in a dry, warm place to rise for 2 hours.

5. Flatten or punch the dough and take out of the bowl. Cut the dough into two or four even pieces and shape into balls. Flatten the dough again slightly and then lightly dust with flour. Cover loosely with cling film on a floured surface and leave to rise for another hour or until the dough has doubled in size.

6. Once the dough is ready, preheat your oven to its highest setting 500F or 250C. If you have a pizza stone, now's the time to pull that sucker out and stick it in the oven. If you don't, put a heavy roasting tray in the oven and allow it to warm up. Use a separate tray to bake your pizzas or manaeesh on. This will help heat the bottom of the dough as quickly as possible, making the crust crisp but moist because of the short baking time.

7. Using your hands or a rolling pin (a "pizza roller" as Matt calls it) flatten the dough to the size and thickness you want. For my manaeesh (or Matt's pizza!), make it thin-crust (about 1/4 inch thick or less). Place on a baking sheet with some semolina scattered on it so the crust doesn't stick.

8. Traditional recipes call for mixing the zataar with olive oil first, but I simply slathered a generous helping of olive oil (2-3 tbsps per medium manaeesh) all over the dough and then sprinkled with heapsof zataar and some minced garlic. I then salted it and baked for 5-7 minutes, or until the surrounding edge is slightly golden but the dough is still somewhat moist when cut.

9. Sprinkle with some fresh lemon juice and eat warm. You can make extra zataar dip for your bread if you really love the stuff by mixing the spices with more oil and a little lemon juice. Delish.

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Matt's Pizza Creations!

Watery but chunky tomato sauce, good olive oil, minced garlic, freshly grated parmiggiano reggiano (and / or shredded mozzarella), and dried oregano are the key to a good base...

Matt loves streaky bacon and kalamata olives,
but wishes he could find good Italian sausage instead.



Half streaky bacon and mushrooms,
half tuna fish, corn and onion - one of my favorites!