Tunisian Lemon Aid

Author: Veronica | Posted: July 29th, 2009 | Filed under: Things We Like | | Comments Off

There are recipes for love, sex, mischief, success, adventure.. I usually find the most memorable mixes of all these elements when I travel. The taste of chocolate in the morning for me will always and forever be a reminder of the most sensual side of Paris. A bubbling pot filled with tomatoes cinnamon, tumeric and curry, where does heady combination of flavors take you? For me it’s the fragrance of a walk on the shores of the icy cold Atlantic under the burning sun of Tangiers. The mouth watering smell wafting from rooftops and kitchen windows at supper time while loosing myself in the beauty of Islamic art at a sea side mosque.

Tunisian Lemon Aid

This summer, in the wet and rain, the smell of lemons being crushed into lemon aid brought the sunshine and freshness of Tunis with it’s white buildings perched like icebergs on high cliffs above turquoise blue seas into my New York City kitchen.

The technique for this full bodied refreshing juice was passed on to me by my dear friend Azzedine from his mother Manoubia’s recipe. (Serves 4)

12 whole lemons
Water
Sugar
Prep:
Wash lemons
Fill a large mixing bowl 3/4 of he way with water.
Add unpeeled lemons to the water and leave to soak at least three hours. The soaking draws the acidity out of the skin.
Turn the lemons occasionally so both sides get a chance to bathe in the water.
Remove lemons from the bowl.
Pour the water used for dousing the fruit down the drain.
Slice the lemons in discs or quarters and remove the seeds.
Place the lemons in their entirety, skin rind and all, in a blender or juicer and puree until the fruit reaches the consistency of a smoothie.
Add sweetener to taste.
Stir.
Pour over crushed ice.

The taste is as bright, pure and fortifying as sunshine.
Joy in a glass.

– Veronica Webb

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“Who Shot Jesus?”

Author: Team | Posted: May 27th, 2009 | Filed under: Product, Uncategorized | | Comments Off

The “Who Shot Jesus?” that’s floating around on the internet is my friend, the great rock critic, Nelson George, who happens to be squawked out in his Brooklyn B-Boy Jimmy Cagney accent… “Don’t worry about it”. He passed me a copy of his latest book City Kid (Viking Press), his autobiography of how he became a very fine writer on the streets of Bed Stuy and Brownsville. We got into the conversation of where our influences came from as kids – buying records, The Jackson 5, Elton John, Ohio Players, Ramsey Lewis, and Stevie Wonder — listening to them and making pictures in our minds. Basement and garage parties were the most amazing places to go and everyone in the house could and would dance – most of the time, with the exception of the dads. Do you remember the first cool person you ever saw? For me it was my next door neighbor Mr. Hill. He worked on the assembly line at Chrysler, drove a Mark IV, wore a Borselino hat, red suits, Cuban heels and DJ’d in his garage which he’d converted to a disco. For Nelson it was a group of cyberitic music lovers and party promoters and his young and soulful mother Doll. Nelson’s description is one of best I’ve ever read detailing the recognition and the birth of cool in a young man’s mind: “In the midsixites she befriended a group of groovy guys called Afrodisiacs 3, who promoted parties,” Nelson explains. “They were all tall, lean, cool, as the other side of the pillow, and wore shades as comfortably as tigers wear stripes”.