A Pinch of Salt

I am sitting at our card table that’s pretending to be a desk surrounded by a pile of CDs waiting to be downloaded into the music library and liberated from their covers in order to make room. My black yoga pants are folded up three or four times and reach just beyond my knees. They are also a bit wet at the folds and I relish the feel of cold air gripping my shins and keeping me alert.

This is not a technique I employ for breaking a writer’s block or enticing inspiration or the free flow of creativity; we went to the beach and I walked in the surf of the majestic Pacific ocean. It was already dark for a few hours when Husband and I started our short trek downhill. We walked and jogged for half an hour on the strand, deciding to make our way back following the edge of the water. Shoes and socks came off and we ran across cold sand towards the ocean, wriggling our toes in the foam. I was squealing in delight every time a wave would break around my feet, excited to be playing chicken with the tide.

Husband kept at a higher ground, not willing to abandon his beloved iPhone to the touch of salty water, enjoying the feel of packed sand right at the point where the waves hug the sand, reaching further and further every second. I jumped in and out of the surf, trying to avoid the seaweed, ignoring the fact that water is definitely splashing well above the folds of my pants. I inhaled the briny ocean air while staring at the pale moon playing hide-and-go-seek with transparent, billowy clouds. We have lived in Southern California for more than three years, and we spent many leisurely hours visiting Laguna Beach; but it took less than a week of incessant crashing of the waves and salt in the air to wake me up and make me unbelievably happy.

I like that I can walk to a major grocery store in about five minutes in one direction and Trader Joe’s in another, but I can’t describe the feeling that overwhelms me every time I catch a glimpse of the truly blue waters of the Pacific while I am pushing my cart through the entrance. Whenever we traveled to the seaside when we were children, the most exciting moment was spotting a wedge of blue behind a curve in the steep, serpentine road weaving through the mountains. Those moments were an annual happening, and therefore cherished and nurtured through the gloomy and gray months of Serbian winter. Every time the Pacific winks at me, it startles me and makes me catch my breath in awe.

I know that long walks will strengthen the tired muscles in my legs; the sun will bring out the rare golden strands in my hair and attempt to hide more numerous silver ones; the warm air will caress my skin and make it shiny; and gorgeous blue skies that run to meet the ocean somewhere behind the horizon line will clear my mind of worrying thoughts. I don’t have to make New Year resolutions; I only have to surrender to the beauty that meets my eye behind every corner.

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I enjoy cooking in my spacious, bright, new kitchen. The floor is set in Spanish tiles and the cupboards are painted white. There is a lot of storage room, but I have to keep a stool behind the fridge to reach the higher shelves. I baked some cookies for our managers, an older couple who live on the first floor and received a nice, big jar of strawberry butter as a “thank you”. Our next-door neighbor is a feisty widow in her seventies who waves to me through my kitchen window every time she passes by with her bike and tells me that the smells of my cooking are making her constantly hungry. I know I am going to like it here. And I know that many plates will leave my kitchen destined for our neighbors’ tables, because we need to make friends.

One of the lightest and tastiest desserts that I know is also unbelievably simple and fast to make. It was not a sweet that Mother would make for guests, but rather a spur-of-the moment kids-need-an-after-school-snack thing. It is light, with very little fat, studded with dried fruit and nuts, very similar to angel food cake as it uses only egg whites. In Serbia we call it Komisbrot, the name I am certain originated somewhere in the German-speaking part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

I made Eggs Benedict for my family a few days ago and had leftover egg whites. I usually freeze my egg whites and write the number on the baggie as I keep on adding them, but this time I decided to make Komisbrot instead.

KOMISBROT (ANGEL FOOD CAKE WITH NUTS AND DRIED FRUIT)

The recipe does not ask for specific number of egg whites, as they are measured by volume, along with the other ingredients. I happened to have 6 egg whites, which amounted to about 1 cup.

Ingredients:

• 1 cup chilled egg whites
• a pinch of salt
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 cup all purpose flour
• 1 cup various dried fruit and nuts, chopped (I used cranberries, white raisins, pecans, and walnuts)
• zest of 1 lemon

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350F. Lightly grease and flour a bread pan.

Beat your egg whites with salt on high speed until stiff peaks form. Add the sugar and mix to combine. Stir in the flour, fruit, nuts, and lemon zest. Pour into the prepared pan and flatten the surface. Bake for thirty minutes (if the knife pierced through the middle comes out clean, it is done).

Let it cool in pan for 10 minutes and turn over to the bakers rack to cool completely. Cut into slices and serve.