Spicy Old Fashioned Recipe

Ancho Reyes is the secret ingredient that will give this rye classic cocktail the kick you never knew it needed. 

Our old fashioned with a kick is inspired by a trip we took to Mexico City.

Here’s a typical scenario over dinner:

Duke and l take a few bites, then: “This is good. But it’d be better if…” I’ll dart into the kitchen and come back with sriracha, hot sauce or red pepper flakes. We sprinkle it on our meal and nod in agreement. “Much better!”

That’s my way of saying that Duke and I have gotten to the point where we prefer pretty much everything to be spicy — and that now extends to our cocktails. 

We first discovered the wonder of Ancho Reyes during our stay at the Ignacia Guest House in Mexico City. Every evening around twilight they’d have a happy hour, featuring a different cocktail and some nibblies. (This is when we first tried crickets, which is a whole other story — though I bet I would’ve liked them more if they were spicy!) 

On a couple of nights, the drinks the hotel served had a delightful kick. When Duke asked what was in them, we heard, “Ancho Reyes,” but had no idea what it was — or that it would soon become one of our favorite boozes. This spicy liqueur is crafted from ancho chilies, which are dried and smoked poblano peppers. 

Here’s how Wine Enthusiast describes Ancho Reyes: “Caramel-y brown in the glass, look for a lightly herbaceous aroma similar to root beer and rounded flavors that mix caramel and cocoa with raisin and cinnamon heat, with a faint smokiness on the finish.” I’m no connoisseur, but that sounds like a lot of pretentious prattle to me. Just know it’s got a bit of a kick and would be great to add to a margarita or, as Duke and I have been whipping up of late, an old fashioned. 

Equal parts rye and Ancho Reyes figure into this spicy old fashioned — and don’t forget the orange bitters.

Spicy Old Fashioned Ingredients

• 1 shot Ancho Reyes

• 1 shot rye

• ⅓ shot simple syrup 

• 4 dashes orange bitters

• 1 dash aromatic bitters 

Add all of the ingredients to a cocktail shaker, then fill with ice. (I double the recipe to do two at once.) Give it a good shake, shake, shake, and pour over ice — preferably one nice big square cube. 

Garnish with a slice of orange peel. 

If there’s one ingredient you can skip it’s the bitters. I just add a dash cuz I feel bad for it. Really, the orange bitters are all you need. 

Duke likes Bulleit, while I prefer Old Overholt — a highly rated rye at a great price.

If you’re out of rye, bourbon will do. 

Make a couple of these and put on a British murder mystery. You may never want another kind of old fashioned again. –Wally

Habiba Gallery in Luxor: Fair Trade Handicrafts

This charming shop in the Luxor souk sells gorgeous items made by local women’s collectives.

If you’re staying in Luxor, be sure to stop into Habiba Gallery to pick up some local handicrafts — and say hi to Linda, who owns the shop.

Wally and I have never met a souk we didn’t like. As our time in Luxor neared its end, we made arrangements with the concierge at our amazing hotel, Al Moudira, to take us across the Nile to shop for souvenirs.

We arrived about 20 minutes later, outside the atmospheric pavilion that serves as the tourist market of Luxor. You’ll know you’re there when you see the massive louvered wooden pergola flanked by a pair of smaller pergolas and the name El-Souk emblazoned above the entrance. For a moment I felt like we were stepping into the city’s past as horse-drawn carriages trotted by while I was taking a photo. 

“The shelves of Habiba are lovingly stocked with curated goods that represent the vast array of Egypt’s cultural richness and craft heritage.

Local producers, many of them women, are supported through the principles of fair trade, providing a path to economic self-sufficiency. ”

Beneath the latticework archway lies the entrance to the Luxor souk — just be careful of the horse and carriages.

Inside the pedestrian-friendly bazaar are merchants selling spices and shops selling scarves, djellabas, trinkets, alabaster, statuettes and more. It wasn’t exactly bustling — we were there on a Sunday, and as Luxor has a large Coptic Christian population, many stalls were closed — but that was fine by me. 

After haggling at a few stalls in the market, our eyes lit up when we spotted Habiba Gallery, located on Andrawes Pasha, a side street running off the main souk. Wally and I have always had a passion for handicrafts, and the shop came highly recommended by Zeina Aboukheir, the “boss lady” proprietor of Al Moudira. 

A playful textile depicting village life, including a watermelon vendor and colorful birds in a cage

UnCommon Threads: Every item Has A Story

As we excitedly began to collect items we wanted to buy, Linda Wheeler, an Australian expat and the owner of Habiba Gallery, began sharing the stories behind the pieces. One of the first of many to catch our eye were a group of earthenware pottery. It was difficult to choose between the unique handmade pieces, but ultimately we settled upon a couple of plates, and a serving vessel in the shape of a cow. 

Duke and Wally couldn’t resist this dish shaped like a cow — at least they think it’s shaped like a cow.

Linda explained to us that the handmade pottery came from Tunis, a small village located in the Fayoum Oasis. The pieces were made by the former students of Swiss-born ceramicist Evelyne Porret. In 1989, Evelyne and her husband, Michel, established a pottery school to mentor and nurture the talents of the children of Tunis. Like Linda, Evelyne and Michel laid the foundation for locals to embrace an entrepreneurial spirit, and many of their students now run small businesses of their own.

Fun natural patterns adorn the plates we bought. The prices at Habiba are fair — no haggling necessary!

The next item was a supersized, Egyptian cotton hammam towel or blanket from Naquadah, a predominantly Coptic village located on the West Bank of the Nile River just south of Luxor. The fine textiles are woven by the local women, who have preserved the traditional craft of manual looming — practiced there since pharaonic times. 

Linda told us how her conversations with the producer of these textiles eventually led to the subtle variation in style we saw before us. We chose one with a simple deep blue striped pattern and hand-knotted fringe. 

This was quickly followed by a brightly colored embroidered textile with a whimsical scene depicting village life and a tote bag with a block-printed fly pattern. No one can deny a fly’s persistence, and the Ancient Egyptians viewed this trait as a positive attribute. Pharaohs were known to have presented military personnel with a golden fly amulet to acknowledge an individual’s success and tenacity. We now better understood the impressive necklace with three flies on it that we had seen at the Luxor Museum.

Wally regaled Linda with a story about how I was unable to exercise discipline when it came to negotiating — in fairness, I had caved rather easily at the shop we visited beforehand, but I was not going to leave Egypt without a few rather authentic-looking objects. Linda diplomatically replied, “Well, if you love them, then it was worth it. And if you think you’re getting a good deal, then that’s OK.”

The shelves of the shop are lovingly stocked with curated goods that represent the vast array of Egypt’s cultural richness and craft heritage. Local producers, many of them women, are supported through the principles of fair trade, providing a path to economic self-sufficiency. 

Whimsical hand-painted wooden spindle dolls reminded Duke of Japanese kokeshi.

One of the refreshing things about Habiba is that everything is clearly marked, so there’s no need to ask for the price or haggle. Linda was never pushy and allowed us to peruse the shop at our own pace. After about 20 minutes, we had a large stack piled on the counter — quite a few things for ourselves as well as presents for family and friends.

Linda, an Aussie expat, started Habiba with a sewing machine and a dream. The shop now showcases gorgeous handicrafts made by women’s collectives in Egypt.

The Story of Habiba and Its Goal of Female Empowerment

It all started when Linda brought her trusty sewing machine with her to Luxor. 

“The idea was to impart my simple skills and love of sewing onto the ladies in Karnak,” Linda says. “Some were widowed, divorced or illiterate, and I hoped to encourage them to make their own clothing. But this was a daunting task, so I reverted to beadwork, a traditional technique familiar to the women, and discovered they were happy to apply their skills to smaller items such as accessories.”

Wanting to find a way to improve these marginalized women’s livelihoods and provide them with a sustainable source of income, Linda decided to open a shop to sell their products. She chose Habiba, the Arabic word for “beloved,” and, with the help of Abd el Shafy, who assisted with the maze of bureaucracy, her dream came true. 

Habiba is filled with beautiful handicrafts like these wooden boxes with geometric mother of pearl marquetry.

At first, the shop didn’t offer a large range of items. “I borrowed a black jalabiya and headscarf and set out with my friend Sahar to find additional handicrafts,” Linda says. “Being a traveller, the thought excited me, and what better reason to see the country and meet the local community? I’ve been to the Siwa Oasis, Sinai Peninsula, Western Desert, Aswan, Fayoum Oasis and El-Mahalla.”

She also partnered with Fair Trade Egypt. “I would travel to the source to see how the product was made and who was involved,” Linda explains. “Meaningful relationships were formed, and over time we’ve developed new ideas with them.”

Technology has improved communication and social customs have relaxed, so Linda no longer needs to modestly cover herself in native garb when she travels around Egypt. 

Linda’s favourite site in Luxor is Karnak Temple. “I will walk through to the offering room, past those huge columns, and then on to the sanctuary of Sekhmet at the Temple of Ptah. It’s my place for grounding,” she says. So it’s fitting that she has helped to establish a workshop space in Karnak named Hands of Habiba, where the women are learning to become independent.

“For me, being a shop owner isn’t entirely about the money,” Linda says. “It’s about sharing the comments of our happy customers with the artisans. My life here has been about the women and the love and support that we give to each other. Living in Egypt is a simple life: buying local, living local and supporting local. The people make the experience — so friendly and always willing to give you their time.”

Her time in Luxor amongst the locals just might have influenced her, as we found Linda to be a delight. If you’re in this part of Egypt, be sure to stop into Habiba and purchase something (or some things) to take back with you, knowing that you’re helping empower Egyptian women. –Duke

“My life here has been about the women and the love and support that we give to each other.

Living in Egypt is a simple life: buying local, living local and supporting local. The people make the experience — so friendly and always willing to give you their time.”

— Linda Wheeler, owner, Habiba Gallery

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RELATED: Shopping in Egypt? Here’s what to expect — and how to get the best bargains.

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Habiba Gallery
opposite the exit gate to Luxor Temple
Andrawes Pasha Street
Luxor, Egypt

Sip and Savor at Seniman Coffee in Ubud

Looking for the best coffee in Bali? Check out this stylish coffeeshop and learn about third wave coffee — as well as what’s next in coffee culture.

Get your java fix in Ubud at the trendy Seniman Coffee Studio.

For Wally and me, one cup of coffee is never enough. And if you follow our blog — a big thank you to those who do — you’re probably already familiar with my borderline obsessive research when planning a trip. I like to find the hidden gems. 

Seniman Coffee Studio in Ubud, Bali was one of those discoveries. I first read about them on Sprudge, a media network dedicated to global coffee culture. After reading contributing writer Evan Gilman’s vivid article, I was determined to seek out Seniman on our visit to the Indonesian island.

Seniman specializes in single-origin local coffee beans.

When we arrived at the café, tucked away at No. 5 on quiet Jalan Sri Wedari (jalan is the Indonesian word for street), I felt like we were in the know. Seniman Coffee Studio is clearly a popular spot. The café was buzzing with tourists, locals and digital nomads, a few who were working on their laptops or simply daydreaming — which isn’t hard to do once you find yourself perched on the open-air verandah after spending an afternoon exploring Ubud. 

The coffee flavor wheel…in Indonesian.

Reinventing the Wheel

Inside the café, a row of perfectly lit siphon coffee brewers looked like they belonged in a chemistry lab. To help you decide what to order, a hand-drawn coffee taster’s wheel diagram on the wall describes the flavor profile and intensity of each roast. Seniman specializes in light roast single-origin Indonesian coffees. I’m a fan, as this method allows the beans to retain moisture and oils, which in my opinion, yields a less acidic, more complex and aromatic cup.

Part of the current coffee culture is telling the story of each type of bean.

A Brief History of Coffee in Indonesia

Coffee was first introduced to Indonesia by the Dutch in 1699. Arabica coffee trees were imported and cultivated on estates in Java, giving rise to the Dutch East India Company and the coffee trade. Fast forward to what’s referred to as the third wave movement, where consumers have become interested in the provenance, production and experience that comes with enjoying a quality cup of coffee. Long gone are the days when the best part of waking up was Folger’s in your cup.

This graphic can help you figure out what to order.

In Indonesia, the third wave came down to the arrival of Starbucks, according to Rodney Glick, owner of Seniman. “Starbucks’ history in this country is completely different to its history in America, as by the time it entered the Indonesian market, the company was already 20 years old,” Glick explained. “Starbucks’ role wasn’t to champion Indonesian origins in Indonesia, but nevertheless it helped create consumer awareness that coffee comes from a place and not a sachet.”

The coffee industry has now moved into the fourth wave, or as Glick prefers to call it, the new wave. The focus is on telling the story of the entire coffee chain. “The coffee industry’s new wave encompasses innovative approaches, acknowledges traditional histories and celebrates regional differences,” he said. “More coffee stories are told by the producers themselves, entailing their own challenges and creative solutions.”

Take a break and get a caffeine fix along Jalan Sri Wedari.

Seniman: Our Spot in Ubud

On our first visit to Seniman, I tried an iced cascara, made from the dried leathery husks of coffee cherries, while Wally stuck with his old standby: an iced latte. A cascara sounded exotic, but to be honest I wasn’t the biggest fan. It’s a bit watered down, tasting closer to tea than coffee, and if you’re expecting a cup of coffee, cascara doesn’t cut it. On our two subsequent visits, I ordered the cold brew and wasn’t disappointed. 

The cascara was a bit too much like a weak tea for Duke’s tastes.

When you order, a wooden plank with three segments gets delivered to your table. One contained coffee, the second a glass of water in an upcycled green glass wine bottle with the bottom as a lid and a small vessel with simple syrup as a sweetener. In the space between, there was a sweet — my kind of place! 

The drinks come on colorful paddles with slots for simple syrup and a sweet treat.

Glick, an Australian expat, founded Seniman Industries in 2009 with the objective to create a laidback brand informed by the serious pursuit of coffee. Everything at Seniman Coffee Studio is artfully prepared and presented — and Glick is a sculptor himself — so it makes sense that in Bahasa Indonesian, seniman means “artist.” (Be sure to check out Glick’s interesting sculptures, which take contemporary figures and infuse them with Hindu and Buddhist elements.)

The siphons look like something out of a steampunk laboratory.

At Seniman, coffee is brewed manually by siphon, pour-over, chemex or hand-drawn espresso to extract the optimal flavor from the beans. The café doesn’t simply serve what many might consider the world’s best brew, they also offer classes and workshops to educate individuals interested in learning more about home brewing, roasting, cupping, espresso and latte milk art. The brand has a light, playful tone as evidenced by their ethos, emblazoned on their menu and T-shirts: Imagine You Know What You’re Doing.

What’s your interpretation of Seniman’s tagline?

When we asked Glick about the quirky tagline, he responded, “From experience, anyone that says they know what they’re doing should be kept at a distance!”

Buy coffee to go, T-shirts and other items at THCR across the street.

This Coffee’s in the Bag

Across the street is the roastery and shop THCR (Tetap Happy Coffee Roasters), which sports another amusingly confounding motto: Everything Happens to Everyone. You can purchase vacuum-sealed bags of whole beans, mugs and T-shirts to take home with you as a souvenir of Bali. Wally and I were both drawn to the color-blocked silver foil bags of single-origin beans with exotic names like Bali Kintamani, Papua Wamena and Sulawesi Toraja. 

Cool beans! Learn all about the coffee you purchase, as Seniman is part of the new wave.

“Seniman Coffee is an example of a new wave coffeeshop since we farm, produce and roast our own coffee, and we work on bringing out the positive attributes of beans from Bali,” Glick told us. “We farm and produce coffee through our sister company, Karana Spesialis Kopi. Additionally, we also source from major coffee regions in Indonesia: Gayo, West Java, Flores, Toraja and Papua.”

I purchased a couple bags of the Bali Karana Madu and one of the Papua Wamena. I actually liked it so much that I’ve ordered more and had it shipped to Chicago. 

Seniman and its sister company are involved in every step of the coffee production process.

Energized by our caffeine fix, Wally and I were ready to return to exploring the shops and avoiding the errant wild monkeys. 

Duke and Wally always find a local spot that acts as their base when they travel — and Seniman held that honor in Ubud.

We asked Glick how Ubud has changed since he’s been there. “More eateries and coffeeshops led by world-class artisans are opening up in Ubud, creating a very interesting mix of high-end international cuisine and local warung [the Indonesian word for shops],” he said. “Together it forms interesting collaborations and cross-pollination of ideas between expats and Indonesians.”

The one downside to iced lattes is that they’re not topped with fun art like these.

If you’re planning on visiting Ubud and are looking for a great cup of coffee, make sure to seek our the red circle with the sideways S. One sip and you’ll understand that Seniman doesn’t have to imagine they know what they’re doing — they already know. –Duke

 

Dog-gone it, if you’re a coffee connoisseur, you can’t miss Seniman in Ubud, Bali.

Seniman Coffee Studio
Jalan Sri Wedari No.5
Ubud, Bali
Indonesia

I Feel Like a Zombie Tiki Drink

Wally’s new favorite drink is a modern twist on a tiki classic, created by Chelsea Napper, bartender extraordinaire.

We just might have found you the perfect summertime cocktail: the I Feel Like a Zombie.

There’s just something so appealing about a tiki bar. All those masks and idols that are about as spooky as something out of a Scooby-Doo cartoon. The kooky glasses shaped like skulls or grimacing, bug-eyed faces. Those superstrong, fruity drinks that will knock you on your ass — some of which get set on fire! And, of course, the brightly colored garnishes, including cocktail umbrellas and bananas carved to look like dolphins.

So when you’re stuck at home (perhaps in the midst of a global pandemic) and the sun is shining and all vacations are canceled and you’re yearning for a bit of the tropics, consider whipping up a batch of I Feel Like a Zombies. 

Such was the case when we ordered a delicious tasting menu from Mr. Oiishi, a takeout and delivery concept launched during the coronavirus quarantine, where various chefs create their take on Asian comfort food. 

When we saw cocktail kits dreamed up by Chelsea Napper, bar director at Yugen in Chicago’s oh-so-trendy Randolph Street Corridor, we had to try one out. 

Napper says she came up with the drink by “thinking about the flavors of the classic zombie tiki cocktail but much more modern.”

Which got me thinking: What exactly is the drink version of a zombie, and where did it originate?

Heavy on the rum, with just the right amount of pineapple and grapefruit, chances are you’ll feel like a I Feel Like a Zombie again soon.

The History of the Zombie Cocktail

The first imbibable zombie was created by the appropriately named Donn Beach, the patron saint of tiki bars. He was so worried about someone stealing his recipe that he went to great lengths to keep the ingredients a secret — even from his own bartenders. The recipe, from 1934, consisted only of code numbers that corresponded to otherwise unlabeled bottles on his bar. Although many have tried to hunt down the exact recipe, there’s a good chance it has been lost to the ages (though Beachbum Berry has made it a lifelong quest to uncover the secret formula — and just might have succeeded). 

Beach is said to have referred to the zombie as “a mender of broken dreams” — and one so potent he wouldn’t serve more than two to a customer.

Everything you need to make this twist on the tiki classic, the zombie, including shrub and syrup.

I Feel Like a Zombie Recipe

Ingredients

• 1 ounce dark rum

• 1 ounce light rum

• 1 ounce pineapple cinnamon shrub

• 1 ounce grapefruit syrup

• 1 slice dehydrated grapefruit

“I recommend a light and dark rum for this cocktail, but if you’ve only got one or the other, that totally works,” Napper says.

Duke did some research and landed on Diplomático Reserva Exclusiva for dark rum and Plantation 3 Stars for light rum, which we picked up at our friendly neighborhood liquor store, Foremost in Uptown.

What the Heck’s a Shrub?

I had never heard of shrubs before. They’re also known by the unappetizing designation of “vinegar cordial.” The last time I knowingly drank vinegar was during a halfhearted attempt to pass a drug test for a summer job I didn’t want.

Shrubs are nonalcoholic syrups made of concentrated fruit, aromatics, sugar and, yes, vinegar.

Why are they called shrubs? Turns out the name is derived from the Arabic word sharab, meaning “to drink.” Shrubs were all the rage in Colonial America, when they were a tasty way to preserve fruit. Their popularity died out with the introduction of factory foods and home refrigerators but have resurged during the mixology revolution and rise of cocktail bars that like to have at least half of the ingredients in their $15 drinks be of obscure origin. 

Here’s a pineapple shrub recipe to try. And a general guide to making shrubs, stating that they typically follow a 1:1:1 ratio of fruit, sugar and vinegar.

Grapefruit Simple Syrup

As a big fan of sangria and old fashioneds, I’m familiar with simple syrup. This is essentially sugar water, so there’s no denying tiki drinks are on the sweet side — though it’s offset by the high amount of alcohol and the tartness of the vinegar.

Try this recipe for grapefruit syrup. 

Preparation

Once you’ve got everything you need, add the shrub and syrup to a cocktail shaker. Then add in the rum. 

Fill the shaker 3/4 of the way with ice and give it a good shake for about 10 seconds.

Strain and serve over fresh ice.

Garnish with a cocktail umbrella and dried grapefruit slice if you’re feeling fancy. Bonus points for serving in tiki glasses! –Wally

Why Are There Coyotes in Graceland Cemetery?!

Were coyotes introduced to get rid of the raccoons? And just how dangerous are the coyotes in Chicago?

They’re cute — and a bit frightening. But the coyotes in Graceland Cemetery in Chicago haven’t hurt anyone and keep to themselves. Photo by Adam Selzer

I never can resist a stroll through a graveyard. One winter day, I walked past the entrance of Graceland Cemetery at the intersection of Clark and Irving Park in Chicago. Before I even knew what I was doing, I found myself heading through the iron gates.

The cemetery is enormous and full of gorgeous old graves and mausoleums, some of which house the remains of famous Chicagoans, including the architect Louis Sullivan and the department store magnate Marshall Field.

Wally thinks this might have been the copse where the coyote made her den.

As I wandered around the pond at the northern end of the cemetery, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. A dark shape emerged from a cluster of brambles about 20 feet away, its brown fur in stark contrast to the whiteness of the snow-covered ground. The creature stared at me, then crouched a bit, its ears flattening, and slowly began to prowl in my direction. I realized this must be a coyote — people in Chicago talk about these creatures roaming the streets at night — and despite its inherent cuteness, I had no doubt it could inflict some serious damage. 

I was carrying a tote bag with my laptop inside, which I now desperately clutched like a weapon, ready to swing it at the beast if it decided to attack me. I backed away, slowly at first, so I could keep the coyote within my sights. Once I had gained some distance, I started running through the snow, finding one of the roads that led to the main entrance. 

Can you spot the coyote? These wild canines help curb populations of raccoons, rats and geese at Graceland Cemetery. Photo by Adam Selzer

Out of breath and slightly traumatized, I darted into the cemetery office near the front gate. A young man smiled at me as I shouted, “There’s a coyote in the cemetery!”

“Oh, yes,” he said calmly. “There’s more than one.”

I blinked at him, dumbfounded. I mean, I understand why cities would allow squirrels and bunnies and even deer to roam our green spaces — but why would it be OK to have large wild dogs running free? As insane as it sounds, there could be up to 4,000 coyotes in Chicago, according to NPR.

“In fact,” the young man continued, “the city brought the coyotes into the cemetery to eradicate the raccoon problem.”

This was getting stranger and stranger. It seemed to me that, in this case, the solution might be worse than the problem. 

“I might have been imagining things,” I said, “but it seemed as if it was pursuing me, like it might attack.”

He nodded. “There’s never been an attack in the cemetery, but she just had a litter and was protecting them.”

That being the case, it sure would have been nice to have a warning posted, something along the lines of: Caution! Keep a lookout for a mother coyote that could maul you because she feels you’re a threat to her babies. Enjoy your visit!

As strange as it might seem, it turns out coyotes are indeed fixtures within Chicago city limits and are, in the vast majority of cases, not a threat to our safety. There are, of course, exceptions to this rule, such as the 6-year-old boy who was bitten by a coyote near the Nature Museum — though who knows? The kid might have done something to instigate the attack.

There are typically three to five coyotes within the grounds of Graceland Cemetery. Photo by Adam Selzer

The Official Word on Coyotes at Graceland

Wanting to get to the bottom of this mystery, I reached out to Graceland’s staff to ask them about coyotes in the cemetery.

No one is sure of exactly how many coyotes are on the grounds, but employees estimate there are usually about three to five.

“The coyotes have never hurt anyone on the grounds and stay away from people,” says Jensen Allen, associate director at Graceland. “We do not allow people to feed them, which is usually what can cause animals to become accustomed to up-close human interactions.”

Did the city really introduce them to the cemetery to deal with the raccoon population?  

“We cannot verify whether they were brought into the city for any reason or not,” Allen says. “There are many stories out there, but we have heard from wildlife experts that this is not true per se. Coyotes have been part of the city for an extremely long time, and it is likely humans encroached upon their territories long ago and they have become used to surviving in urban areas.”

Either way, raccoons are more of an issue to people than the coyotes have ever been, she attests. “As I’m sure you know, raccoons are pretty fearless and will approach humans with no issue. We are thankful to our coyotes because they keep raccoons down as well as other vermin such as rats, mice, geese and any other troublesome wildlife animal.”

Our friend Sandy and her daughters visit Graceland often — and are always excited to see a coyote.

To learn more about coyotes (and be tempted to hold one of their cute little puppies — even though this is a very bad idea), check out the Urban Coyote Research Project. –Wally

 

Graceland Cemetery
4001 N. Clark St.
Chicago, IL 60613

Milk Bar Compost Cookies

Some people call them garbage cookies or kitchen sink cookies. While you’re baking up a storm at home, throw in whatever sweet and savory snacks that are near the bottom of the bag into this sinfully delicious dessert recipe.

Compost cookies: decadent and the perfect meeting of savory and sweet

It seems surreal now, as we move into the third month of our coronavirus quarantine. But back in early February, before the world screeched to a halt, I was in New York on a business trip and walked past one of Milk Bar’s locations, the sister bakery to the Momofuku restaurant group. It was around 9 p.m. and it was still hopping, so I decided not to go in. 

Since we won’t be going to NYC any time soon, I decided to make their famous compost cookies at home. You may wonder why they’re called compost cookies, or, alternately, garbage or kitchen sink cookies. Whatever you want to call them, there’s no denying how addictive and delicious they are. They’re the perfect marriage between satisfying my sweet tooth (with dark chocolate chunks and toffee bits) and Wally’s savory cravings (featuring one of his favorite snacks, potato chips). Although there are a lot of ingredients that go into these, what’s great about them is that you can easily incorporate and use up whatever you have on hand.

“Compost cookies are easy and comforting to make — an ideal recipe to add to your rotation, during, say, a global pandemic, especially if you’ve grown tired of making banana bread.”

It’s a great recipe for someone like my mom who’s known to throw random ingredients into her recipes. Compost cookies are easy and comforting to make — an ideal recipe to add to your rotation, during, say, a global pandemic, especially if you’ve grown tired of making banana bread.

Luckily for us, Christina Tosi, the award-winning chef, creative force and owner of Milk Bar, has graciously shared her recipes for their baked goods on their website. It seemed downright serendipitous when Tosi showed up as a guest judge on Nailed It! on Netflix as we were munching on the compost cookies I had baked.

I’ve made a couple of minor tweaks. The first batch I tried at the suggested temperature of 375°F came out more flat and crispy than I would like — Wally didn’t mind, but I can admittedly be a bit neurotic about these things. I don’t know if our oven is simply too hot, but I reduced the temperature to 350°F, and the baking time from 18 minutes to 12, with better results. 

The dough has so many bits and chunks in it — it’s seriously bonkers how many different things are in these cookies! For the best results, I recommend scooping out your dough with a 1½-inch-diameter cookie scoop and placing the balls in a resealable container in the freezer overnight. But if you can’t wait that long, a couple of hours will suffice. –Duke

Compost cookies are a fun take on chocolate chip cookies that pack in your favorite snacks.

Servings: 24 cookies

Active Time: 30 minutes 

Total Time: 2 hours, plus an optional overnight chill

Potato chips, toffee, chocolate, pretzels — throw in whatever you’ve got left in the pantry!

INGREDIENTS

• 16 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature 

• 1 cup granulated sugar

• ⅔ cup light brown sugar, tightly packed 

• 1 tablespoon light corn syrup

• 1 egg

• ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

• 1⅓ cups flour

• ½ teaspoon baking powder

• ¼ teaspoon baking soda

• 1 teaspoon kosher salt

• ¾ cup chocolate chunks 

• ½ cup Heath toffee bits 

• ⅓ cup old-fashioned rolled oats

• 2½ teaspoons ground coffee

• 2 cups potato chips

• 1 cup mini pretzels 

The first step is mix up the ingredients that could be used for a graham cracker crust — though here they’ll just create the base for the cookie dough.

GRAHAM CRACKER “CRUST”

• 1½ cups graham cracker crumbs

• ¼ cup milk powder

• 2 tablespoons sugar

• ¾ teaspoon kosher salt 

• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature 

• ¼ cup heavy cream

The graham cracker “crust”

PREPARATION

Start with what Tosi calls a graham crust. I’m looking forward to trying this on the next Key lime pie I make, but here it’s used as a textural component in the cookies. Toss the graham cracker crumbs, milk powder, sugar and salt with your hands in a medium bowl to evenly distribute your dry ingredients.

Add the butter to the dry ingredients and toss again to evenly distribute. Then add the heavy cream. The butter and cream will act as a glue, adhering to the dry ingredients and turning the mixture into small pea-sized clusters. The crust should hold its shape if squeezed tightly in the palm of your hand. If it isn’t moist enough, mix in an additional 1 to 1½ tablespoons of butter.

Next, move onto the cookie dough. Combine the butter, sugars and corn syrup in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. I swear by my KitchenAid stand mixer, but an old-school hand mixer will work, too. Cream together the ingredients on medium-high for 2 to 3 minutes. Using a spatula, scrape down the sides of the bowl, add the egg and vanilla, and beat for 7 to 8 minutes more. 

Reduce the speed to low and add the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. I usually add this in batches to prevent the flour from flying out of the bowl. Mix until the dough comes together, no longer than 1 minute. (Do not walk away from the appliance during this step, or you will risk over-mixing the dough.) Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a spatula.

Still on low speed, add the chocolate chunks, toffee bits, graham cracker crust, oats and coffee, and mix until just incorporated, about 30 seconds. Add the potato chips and pretzels, still on low speed, until just incorporated. When you’re adding the potato chips and mini pretzels, it’s best not to mix them too much; you want to retain irregular bits and pieces. That way you can taste the salty-sweetness of the cookie.

Duke recommends freezing the dough for better results — if you can stand the wait!

Using a 1½-inch-diameter cookie scoop, portion out the dough equally. I make a dome shape that’s flat on the bottom. Don’t bake your cookies at room temperature — they will end up flat like a pancake. Mine still came out pretty flat, but the longer I froze the dough, the more shape they kept. Place inside a resealable container and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or freeze overnight. 

A cookie scoop helps shape the dough.

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Arrange pre-scooped cookie dough a minimum of 4 inches apart on parchment or silpat-lined sheet pans.

Bake for 12 minutes. The cookies will puff, crackle and spread. After 12 minutes, they should be golden-brown. Give them an extra minute or so if that’s not the case.

Cool the cookies completely on the sheet pans before transferring to a plate or an airtight container for storage. Wally learned this the hard way — he wanted to have these right out of the oven, but the cookies didn’t have enough time to solidify. At room temp, cookies will keep fresh for five days; in the freezer, they will keep for one month.

Call ’em what you will — compost, garbage, kitchen sink — but these Milk Bar-inspired cookies are delicious by any name.

Anahuacalli Museum: Diego Rivera’s Temple-Like Treasure Trove

El Museo Anahuacalli is unlike any other museum we’ve visited. Explore Rivera’s collection of pre-Hispanic artifacts after a visit to La Casa Azul.

If you’ve seen Frida’s Casa Azul, the Anahuacalli Museum is included in the ticket. Don’t miss it!

My first introduction to Diego Rivera, one of Mexico’s most famous artists, was a seemingly ubiquitous, mass-produced print of Rivera’s painting El Vendedor de Alcatraces (The Calla Lily Vendor). This image can be seen hanging on the wall of many Mexican restaurants in Anytown, USA. 

Wally peeks behind a giant agave plant in the plaza in front of the museum.

The subject of the artwork is a peasant woman, head bowed, squatting and overwhelmed by a basket filled with an immense bunch of white calla lilies. Rivera was known for his murals with a message and many featured the great social inequalities of the working class and the indigenous peoples of his country. His larger-than-life paintings were commissioned by the Mexican government, Henry Ford, the Rockefellers and the San Francisco Stock Exchange building, among many others. 

“If the light seems gauzy it’s because the panels of the thin vertical windows aren’t made from glass but alabaster, creating an ethereal air of mystery. ”

Frida’s nickname for Diego was Toad-Frog — and with his bulging eyes and belly, it’s not hard to imagine why.

Perhaps what’s more interesting is that his passionate, colorfully attired and unibrowed wife, the eccentric Mexican painter Frida Kahlo is now better known than her erstwhile husband. Her birthplace and childhood home, La Casa Azul (the Blue House), was purchased by and shared with Rivera, who paid off the mortgage and financial debt left by Frida’s father Guillermo — undoubtedly accrued by Frida’s chronic health issues caused by a near-fatal street car accident she suffered when she was 18 years old. 

The first floor of the museum is filled with Mexican folk art.

Diego’s Dream Museum

If you’re visiting Kahlo’s home, be sure to hold on to your ticket, as it also includes admission to Rivera’s equally intriguing and less visited Museo Anahuacalli. The museum is located on the southern end of Coyoacán, about a 30-minute Uber ride from La Conchita Plaza, where Wally and I departed from after spending the afternoon exploring the area. 

The museum’s name is derived from Cemanahuac, the name used by the Aztecs to refer to their world. It’s Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs, for “the Place Surrounded by Water” a concept that paid homage to the swampy pre-Hispanic landscape of México. 

Diego and Frida purchased the parcel of land in the 1930s on the rocky and then underdeveloped lava deposit of El Pedregal colonia, or neighborhood. While working on a mural in America, Rivera was inspired by the Industrial Revolution, and envisioned a space where he and Kahlo could visit and contemplate their collection of pre-Hispanic artifacts. He spent every cent he could scrape together on acquiring these pieces, amassing over 50,000 in his lifetime. One of the stories told about his obsession involves his second wife, Guadalupe Marín, who ground up one of his prized figurines in a fit of anger and served it to him in a bowl of soup. 

Rivera obsessively collected local artifacts.

Some of Rivera’s artifacts might have been acquired on the black market — maybe even this one, which Wally thinks looks like someone giving birth.

Rumor has it that Rivera acquired more than a few of his artifacts on the black market. At the time, there weren’t any laws protecting the provenance of pre-Columbian antiquities, and for this reason, the market boomed amongst nationals and foreigners alike. However Rivera obtained his prized artifacts, it’s undoubtedly an impressive collection that reveals the reverence and curiosity he felt toward the past. An inscription by Rivera at the entrance to the museum reads, “I hereby return to the people what I could rescue from the artistic heritage of their ancestors.”

Jaguars were worshipped as gods by the ancient peoples of Mexico.

Before he died in 1957 at the age of 70, Rivera bequeathed his artifacts and vision for a space to conserve and share the collection with the people of Mexico. The passion project was completed posthumously by his daughter Ruth Rivera, the financial support of his close friend and patroness Dolores Olmedo and architect Juan O’Gorman, using plans left by Rivera.  

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Visit Dolores Olmedo’s amazing estate and see more works by Frida and Diego

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All are welcome at the Museo Anahuacalli.

Like Entering a Temple

The imposing exterior of Anahuacalli is based upon a teocalli, a Mesoamerican temple standing on a truncated pyramid, rising dramatically from the edge of a broad, open plaza. Anahuacalli is sheathed entirely in black basalt, the igneous rock produced by the eruption of nearby Xitle, a volcano that destroyed the pre-Hispanic settlement of Cuicuilco that preceded Mexico City. 

A sign at the entry kiosk states:

En este establecimiento mercantil no se discrimina el ingreso a ninguna persona por motivos de raza, religión, orientación sexual o socioeconómica ni por ningún otro motivo.

This establishment does not discriminate against entry to any person on the basis of race, religion, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status or for any other reason.

Once inside, Wally and I immediately noticed a change in light and temperature; it was dim and cool, like the interior of a tomb. If the light seems gauzy it’s because the panels of the thin vertical windows aren’t made from glass but alabaster, creating an ethereal air of mystery. 

Gorgeous papel picado, or cut paper decorations, hang above artifacts placed in niches.

There’s a large ofrenda, an altar to Rivera.

One of our favorite displays on the ground floor was the impressive and brightly colored ofrenda, a traditional and allegorical offering dedicated to the deceased Rivera. Adorning the ofrenda are life-size papier-mâché folk art sculptures are known as alebrijes—the word these fantastical creatures were repeatedly chanting in vivid fever dream that the artisan Pedro Linares had. 

Ofrendas often have skeleton figures and food and other items the deceased enjoyed in life.

Whimsical papier-mâché folk art creatures called alebrijes came to their creator in a feverish dream.

The exuberant colors of the figures and papel picado, cut tissue paper banners, are all the more striking against the volcanic stone. 

Admire the cut tissue paper flags before venturing into the depths of the temple-like museum.

Narrow alabaster windows give the museum an otherworldly quality.

From the Underworld to the Heavens

A stairwell symbolizing the entrance to the Mayan underworld of Xibalba descends past bouquets of dried marigolds. These flowers guide spirits to their altars using their vibrant colors and pungent scent. 

Bright orange marigolds help guide the way for spirits to visit this world.

Duke looks up at the dried marigolds that fill this stairwell.

The Anahuacalli’s three levels are bisected by dramatic stone staircases leading to galleries with vitrines and niches filled with Rivera’s personal collection of more than 2,000 Zapotec, Maya, Aztec, Olmec and Toltec idols and artifacts ranging from utilitarian to religious objects. 

Rivera collected about 50,000 pre-Hispanic artifacts.

One of Rivera’s wives supposedly ground up one of his idols and served it to him in soup.

Make sure to look up at the ceilings, which showcase mosaics based on Rivera’s designs and communist inclinations. Most were inspired by the mythological creatures of the Mesoamerican canon, with a hammer and sickle thrown in for good measure. One mosaic depicts a toad — Kahlo’s nickname for Rivera was El Sapo-rana, or Toad-Frog — fitting, as he was a large, portly man with bulging eyes. Incidentally, his birthplace, Guanajuato, loosely translates to the Place of Frogs. 

Look up! Most of the ceilings have murals made from different colored rocks.

A woman gathers fruit in one ceiling mural.

Rivera wasn’t subtle about his fondness for Communism.

The light-filled second floor of the museum was originally envisioned as Rivera’s art studio and contains a number of monumental charcoal sketches and studies for several of his murals. One in particular, El Hombre en el Cruce de los Caminos (Man at the Crossroads), is a fresco originally commissioned in 1932 for the Rockefeller Center in New York, but later destroyed and unceremoniously chiseled off the wall for its unflattering portrait of Rockefeller and depiction of communism.

On the second floor, you can see studies for Rivera’s murals.

Another large-scale piece, Pesadilla de Guerra, Sueño de Paz (Nightmare of War, Dream of Peace), was a portable mural painted in 1952 for the Twenty Centuries of Mexican Art exhibition that traveled to various European cities. Its creator sold the work, which was censored by the Mexican authorities, to China. Nobody knows for certain where it is today. 

Also among Rivera’s artworks is a childhood drawing of a choo-choo train. 

Although the Anahuacalli is filled with niches showcasing Rivera’s beloved artifacts, it houses only a fraction of his collection.

Some galleries host temporary exhibits.

It’s also a space that hosts temporary exhibits and site-specific projects. While we were there in the fall of 2018, an exhibit titled Machama featured Adelia Sayeg’s sculptural ceramics. 

Dominating the second floor wall is an early rendering of Rivera’s famous Pesadilla de Guerra, Sueño de Paz mural.

The circular piece in the center of the room was filled with small ceramic pieces by Adelia Sayeg.

The museum’s interior embodies some of the same tenets as American architect Frank Lloyd Wright — specifically the concept of compression and release, with narrow stairwells and passageways opening abruptly into larger spaces. Rivera did meet with Wright in 1952 and consulted with him about the structure. 

Here comes the sun: Keep winding your way up through the museum to end up on the rooftop.

You’ll be temporarily blinded as you step out of the dark confines of the museum onto the rooftop terrace. Like Duke, you can admire the view of CDMX.

Wally takes a break from a long day exploring the neighborhood of Coyoacán.

You wind your way up, floor by floor, until you step out onto the rooftop terrace, open to the sky, boasting panoramic views of the city. The sun bathed the outlying area in golden light. It was a perfect end to an incredible day. –Duke

Wally and Duke are all smiles at this truly one-of-a-kind museum, which they can’t recommend enough.

Anahuacalli Museum

Museo 150
San Pablo Tepetlapa
Coyoacán
04620 Ciudad de México
CDMX
Mexico

 

The Cool Confines of the Luxor Museum

Whether you need a break from exploring the temples of Luxor and Karnak to escape the heat or just want to take a virtual tour, the Luxor Museum is filled with amazing statues and reliefs of King Tut, Akhenaten and other famous pharaohs, as well as Egyptian gods including Amun, Sobek and Sekhmet.

Not too many travelers bother with the Luxor Museum — but that’s a mistake.

A processional route over a mile and a half long once connected the temples of Luxor and Karnak. There’s talk of renovating and reopening this roadway, and it would be an impressive sight, lined with noble sphinxes, with the glittering water of the River Nile twinkling off to one side. To be honest, though, I can’t imagine that long of a walk, with no shelter from the sun god Ra’s blazing heat. 

After you’ve explored Luxor or Karnak Temples, though, you can escape the intense sun with a visit to the Luxor Museum. Even though it’s situated about a 20-minute walk from Luxor Temple, partway to Karnak, it seems as if not too many tourists add this to their itinerary. 

When we suggested it to our guide, Mamduh, he looked a bit surprised, as if we might have been the first people he’s had make the request.

“If you want to see a lot of the statues that once filled the temples of Ancient Egypt, you’ll have to visit a museum.”

The interior is a cool, sleek white space with angles that give it a surprisingly modern feel. It’s not too large of a space, which means you can see the entire collection in an hour or so. 

Guides aren’t allowed to lecture about the various exhibits. So Mamduh, who had been with us all week, educating us on Ancient Egyptian culture and archeology, from Aswan up to Luxor, had to shift his role. He was no longer our teacher; he became a friend exploring the museum with us. Judging from the sparkle in his eye and his childlike sense of wonder, he hadn’t spent much time in the museum and looked at this as an opportunity to increase his education.

The mummified remains of Ramesses I have a colorful past, including a stint at Ripley’s Believe It or Not! in Niagara Falls, Ontario. Unlike at the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, you can actually photograph this mummy.

Where Are the Statues of Ancient Egypt?

The temples of Ancient Egypt, once packed with statues, are now sadly bereft of these works of art. I often remarked to Duke how much I wished the niches, sanctuaries and pedestals were still home to the statues that once adorned them. If you want to see these statues, you’ll have to visit a museum — and the one in Luxor fittingly houses numerous carvings that were unearthed at the nearby temples of Karnak and Luxor.

Before we started wandering the museum, we stopped into an auditorium to watch a short documentary about Thebes (the ancient city where Luxor now stands). The fim had a grainy, bootlegged quality that revealed how woefully outdated it is. It reminded Duke and me of the film reels we used to watch in elementary school. To be honest, I don’t recall much about it. If time is limited, this is definitely something you could skip.

Here’s a brief tour of the Luxor Museum, showcasing some of our favorite artifacts.

Senusret I (circa 1971-1926 BCE)

Limestone 

Part of the colossal pillar of Pharaoh Senusret I from the White Chapel at Karnak, the structure was built to commemorate the first anniversary of the Sed Festival, held during the 30th year of his reign. Senusret is depicted in the traditional form of the god of the afterlife, Osiris, with arms folded across his chest and holding an ankh, the symbol of life, in each hand. 

Senusret III (1878-1840 BCE) 

Quartz 

This quartz head, found at Karnak, sporting the double crown and false beard, captures the humanity of the great Twelfth Dynasty ruler. His heavy-lidded eyes and supposed slight smile (I don’t really see it) represent  a break in the sculptural tradition of Egypt’s Middle Kingdom. 

Amenenhat III (1841-1792 BCE)

Black granite

Check out that look of disgust! Stern features like this were typical of the Middle Kingdom statuary.

Ramesses III (1550-1532 BCE)

Graywacke

This cult statue of Ramesses III, the last great warrior king of the New Kingdom, wears a short wig surmounted by the double crown. One part of the sculpture, which decorated the Precinct of Mut at Karnak, was discovered in the 1930s by the Oriental Institute of Chicago. The other was unearthed in 2002 by an expedition team from Johns Hopkins University. 

Thutmose III (1490-1436 BCE)

Graywacke

Shown eternally youthful, Thutmose III is wearing a belt with his cartouche, an oval carving with the pharaoh’s name in hieroglyphics.

Amun-Min relief (1490-1436 BCE)

Limestone

Look at those colors, still so bright after thousands of years! The chief deity Amun is merged with the fertility god Min. The relief, from Deir el-Bahari, was destroyed during the Amarna period and restored by a later pharaoh.

Unknown officer (1440-1400 BCE)

Sandstone 

This uninscribed Eighteenth Dynasty painted statue depicts an officer wearing a shebyu collar. While these necklaces were often worn by New Kingdom pharaohs, they were also given as a reward for valor or distinguished service.

Amenhotep II relief (circa 1426-1400 BCE)

Red granite

Amenhotep II was particularly proud of his prowess as an athlete and warrior. He’s shown shooting arrows through a target. In the inscription, he boasts of being so much stronger than normal men that he uses copper for target practice rather than wood, through which his arrows pass like papyrus.

Sobek and Amenhotep III (circa 1386-1353 BCE)

Calcite, Egyptian alabaster

The crocodile-headed deity holds an ankh to bestow life to the youthful ruler. The statue was usurped by Ramesses II.

Iwnit (1405-1367 BCE)

Diorite, possibly

This statue of Iwnit, a minor goddess from the Amduat and consort to the god Montu, was created during the reign of Amenhotep III. With dimples at the corner of her mouth, which give the impression of a fleeting smile, some call this the Mona Lisa of Karnak.

Amenhotep III (circa 1386-1353 BCE)

Quartzite

This New Kingdom figure of Amenhotep III was originally adorned with gold that was removed in antiquity, leaving some rough spots visible where armlets once were. 

Sekhmet

Gray granite  

The war goddess Sekhmet personified the fierce protective aspects of women and was known as the Mistress of Dread (coolest nickname ever?). In the New Kingdom she belonged to a group of goddesses known as the Eye of Ra. Here she’s shown with a broken sun disk above her head.

Amenhotep, son of Hapu (1400 BCE) 

Granite 

This statue of a seated scribe with stylized fat folds represents Amenhotep, son of Hapu, an important official under Pharaoh Amenhotep III. A palette with two inkwells, one for red and one for black, hangs over his left shoulder. As overseer of all the king’s works, a post he reached later in life, he was responsible for many of Amenhotep’s ambitious building projects. Like Imhotep, he became deified after death. 

Wall painting of Amenhotep III (circa 1386-1353 BCE)

Painted stucco

Sadly, all that’s left of this wall painting from the tomb of an official are fragments. The image shows Pharaoh Amenhotep III seated under a canopy, with his mother behind him and his enemies beneath him, a position of power. If you want to see what this would have looked like in full, the facsimile painted in 1914 by Egyptologist Nina de Garis Davies can be viewed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. 

Amenhotep III (circa 1386-1353 BCE)

Granodiorite 

This sculpture from north Karnak depicts the kneeling figure of Pharaoh Amenhotep III, a popular figure at the Luxor Museum. Holding a pair of flails, the king is kneeling during his coronation by the god Amun-Ra, whose now-missing hand would have originally rested upon Amenhotep’s crown. 

Temple wall of Amenhotep IV aka Akhenaten (circa 1380-1335 BCE)

Sandstone

This partially restored wall from a razed temple dates from the first five years of Amenhotep IV’s reign. The fragments,  known as talatat, were used as filling material and removed from the interior of the ninth pylon at Karnak. This scene depicts the so-called Heretic King and his wife Queen Nefertiti worshipping the multi-armed Aten, with images of daily life associated with the temple storehouses, workshops and breweries.

Akhenaten (circa 1380-1335 BCE)

Sandstone 

These are the remains of a colossal statue in the easily identifiable Amarna style (which we both love) found east of the Amun-Ra temple precinct, in an open court dedicated to the solar god Aten, built by Akhenaten in the third year of his reign. The colossi were knocked down and left in situ during the reign of Horemheb. During an excavation in 1925, Henri Chevrier, chief inspector of antiquities at Karnak, uncovered 25 fragments.

Tutankhamun sphinx (1347-1336 BCE)

Calcite

The face of this sphinx from Karnak Temple appears to bear the features of King Tut — most noticeably in the eyes and chin. This likeness wears a nemes headdress and originally had human arms that held a vase. 

Tutankhamun as Amun (1347-1336 BCE)

Limestone

Amun, the patron deity of Thebes, is depicted in the form of the legendary Boy King. Tutankhamun restored the cult of Amun (and the other gods) after the death of monotheistic, monomaniacal Akhenaten.

Atum and Horemheb (circa 1300-1292 BCE)

Diorite

The militaristic Pharaoh Horemheb kneels before the solar deity Atum, offering two nw jars. Atum is seated on a throne, holds an ankh and wears a long wig and a curved false beard, topped with the double crown of Egypt. Carved into the side of the throne is the sema tawny, lung and windpipe, symbolizing the union of the two lands (Lower and Upper Egypt). The well-preserved artwork was discovered in 1989, buried beneath the solar court of Amenhotep III at Luxor Temple. 

Seti I (1323-1279 BCE)

Alabaster

Wally thinks the spot where his penis would be was a light switch. Seti I was a warrior king like his father Ramesses I before him. He was the husband of Queen Tuya and the father of Ramesses II also known as Ramesses the Great. A passionate builder, he’s responsible for the hypostyle hall at Karnak. 

Nebre (circa 1292-1189 BCE)

Sandstone

This work was discovered at a fortress that protected the western border of Egypt from the Libyans. Nebre served as a commander under Ramesses II and held multiple titles, including troop commander, charioteer of the king, overseer of foreign lands and chief of the Medjay, an elite police force. He holds the staff of office, topped by the lion head of Sehkmet, goddess of war. –Wally

 

Turkish Coffee Buns

Try Caleb’s twist — see what we did there? — on glazed cinnamon cardamom buns, where he activates the yeast in coffee instead of milk. (Believe it or not, it works!)

These delectable treats look almost too good to eat!

I recently had some amazing Turkish coffee buns at Lula Cafe in Chicago’s Logan Square neighborhood, and ever since I had been wondering if I could activate yeast in coffee instead of water or milk. So I tried it!

I made my own version of the buns and I’m quite proud of the bake. –Caleb

Servings: 8

Active Time:  1 hour, 10 minutes

Total Time: 5 hours, 20 minutes, plus an overnight proof

Brew up some coffee…

…cuz you’ll be activating the yeast in it!

INGREDIENTS

Dough

• 1 cup freshly brewed coffee

• 1 teaspoon honey

• 1 tablespoon active dry yeast

• 1 egg

• 1 egg yolk

• 3½ cups bread flour (all-purpose is fine, too)

• ½ cup granulated sugar

• 1½ teaspoon ground cardamom (from about 3 teaspoons of pods)

• 1 teaspoon fine kosher salt

• 6 tablespoons room-temperature unsalted butter, plus more for bowl

You’ve got to proof the dough overnight — and this is a step you can’t skip!

Roll out the dough before the twists and turns take place.

Filling and Assembly

• 6 tablespoons room-temperature unsalted butter 

• 2 tablespoons instant coffee or espresso powder

• 1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

• 1½ cups (packed) brown sugar, divided

• all-purpose flour (for surface)
  

PREPARATION

Dough

Brew fresh coffee, and allow it to cool until lukewarm, ideally 110ºF-115ºF—any hotter and you’ll kill the yeast.

Pour the coffee into the large bowl of a stand mixer. Whisk in the honey and yeast, and let it sit for 10-15 minutes until there’s a layer of foam on the surface. This means the yeast is active.

Add the egg, egg yolk, flour, granulated sugar, cardamom and salt to the yeast mixture and mix with the dough hook on low speed until well combined. 

Increase the speed to medium and continue to mix until the dough is smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes. 

Gradually add butter, 1 tablespoon at a time. When you’ve added 6 tablespoons, mix until the dough is smooth, supple and shiny for 10-15 minutes to develop the gluten.

Transfer the dough to a large buttered bowl, cover with plastic wrap and a kitchen towel, and let it sit at room temperature until doubled in size, 1-1 ½ hours. 

Punch the dough down, cover the bowl tightly in plastic wrap and chill overnight. This is an important step: Don’t skip it. The slow proof creates more flavor because it gives the yeast more time to process the sugar.

Knotty, knotty: You might need to watch a tutorial on how to get your buns looking so good.

Filling and Assembly

Mix the butter, cinnamon and 1/2 cup brown sugar in a medium bowl until combined.

Work quickly and keep the dough as chilled as possible to make rolling more manageable. Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured piece of parchment paper and roll to a ¼-inch-thick rectangle, about 16 inches by 12 inches. Cover with plastic and chill until the dough is firm, 30-60 minutes.

Spread the butter mixture over two-thirds of the dough. Fold the plain side over the middle, then fold the opposite third over (like folding an envelope). Roll to a 12-inch-by-8-inch rectangle about ½-inch thick. Slice lengthwise into eight 1-inch-thick strips.

Working one at a time, lay each strip on a clean work surface with the long side facing you. Using your palms, gently twist each end in opposite directions until the entire strip is spiraled. Hold one end of the strip between your thumb and index finger. Working away from you, tightly wrap the strip around three fingers. Wrap it around your fingers again, placing the second loop closer to the palm of your hand. As you bring the strip across the back of your hand, cross over the first loop, angling toward the end of your index finger. Cross the dough over the front of your hand and tuck the end into the center while removing your fingers and pushing through to the other side to create a knot. 

If all of that seems a bit much, Epicurious has kindly offered up step shots. Whatever shape you make, just be sure the knots are tight.

Divide the twists between two rimmed baking sheets, spacing them evenly apart. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let them sit at room temperature until they’ve doubled in size, 45-60 minutes.

Place the racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven.

Preheat to 325°F. 

Bake the coffee buns, rotating pans from top to bottom and front to back halfway through, until they’re deeply golden brown, 25-30 minutes.

Bring the remaining 1 cup brown sugar and ½ cup water to a boil in a small saucepan. Generously brush the syrup over the hot buns. FYI: The glaze recipe makes enough for two or three rounds of brushing. Beware — brushing this many times will make for a sweet and sticky bun. Which, don't get me wrong, is delicious. But if you want less sweet, cut the recipe in half and brush the buns once. 

Syrupy sweetness! Don’t be shy with that glaze.

This take on Turkish coffee buns is one you won’t soon forget.

Note: If you want to make regular cinnamon buns with this recipe, consider the following swaps: 

• Activate the yeast in whole milk instead of coffee.

• Use 1 tablespoon of Chinese five-spice powder and 2 tablespoons of cinnamon (skipping the instant coffee or espresso powder).

Dig in!

The Mind-Bogglingly Gorgeous Nasrid Palaces at the Alhambra

No trip to Granada is complete without a tour of the Palacio de los Leones and the Palacio de Carlos V. Learn the colorful history, which includes an explosion and a dinner party massacre.

The Patio de los Leones, with its namesake fountain

The impressive Alhambra complex in the charming town of Granada, Spain is a collection of palaces built at various times during its history. At the heart of the Nasrid Palaces complex is the Palacio de los Leones (Palace of the Lions). It’s likely that the structure was originally independent of the others, with the existing passage between the Comares Palace and the Palace of the Lions added sometime after the Muslim-ruled town of Granada fell to the Christians in 1492. 

This was our favorite part of the entire Alhambra complex.

Built at the peak of the Nasrid dynasty, the palace and cloister-like courtyard known as the Patio de los Leones (yes, you guessed it: the Patio of the Lions) was commissioned by Muhammad V during the second half of the 14th century, as a pleasure palace for the emir and his harem. 

What Islamic art lacks in depictions of living creatures, it more than makes up for in beautiful patterns.

“It was like something out of “Game of Thrones.”

The sultan invited the chief noblemen of the Abencerraje family to a banquet — and set about unceremoniously massacring all 36 of them.”

Delicate pillars frame restoration work.

The two main structures we’re covering in this post are:

• Palacio de los Leones

• Palacio de Carlos V 

The wall carvings in this section of the Nasrid Palaces are truly spectacular. Can you spot the bird on its peculiar perch?

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MORE ALHAMBRA POSTS

Explore the Generalife Gardens

Enter the Alcazaba fortress

Start your Nasrid Palaces adventure with the Mexuar and Comares Palace

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Everywhere you look, your vision is filled with stunning architecture and delicate carvings.

At the time of our visit, the palace’s impressive namesake fountain, a polygonal basin supported on the haunches of 12 rather primitive-looking white marble lions, was undergoing restoration. As we passed by the fountain under repair, we were told no photos were allowed. Incidentally, this didn’t prevent Wally from discreetly holding out his camera and snapping an image of the fountain as we passed by. 

Wally snuck a shot of the lion fountain while it was under repair.

The fountain is unusual, as representations of living creatures do not typically appear in Islamic art. 

The patio is divided into four quadrants, with running water channels symbolizing the four rivers that run through the Islamic idea of paradise: wine, water, milk and honey.

Windows look out upon the greenery, which was watered via ancient aqueducts.

Four Rooms 

Slender columns with cubic capitals support the intricately carved arcades of stalactite-like muqarna arches surrounding the perimeter gallery. Its massive chambers open onto the courtyard with the Sala de los Abencerrajes to the south and the Sala de las Dos Hermanas to the north. The other two are the Sala de los Mocárabes, closest to the entrance, and the Sala de Los Reyes, to the west, which was closed during our visit. 

The domed ceiling of the Hall of the Two Sisters reminded us of a honeycomb.

Sala de las Dos Hermanas, the Hall of the Two Sisters

The room takes its name from a pair of large white marble slabs set into the floor. Why these slabs were thought to be female relations is anybody’s guess. But the most outstanding feature of the room isn’t its floors — it’s the ceiling. Framed by a symmetrical eight-pointed star illuminated by light that filters through 16 latticed mashrabiya windows, the beautiful honeycombed ceiling of this two-storied hall is nothing short of breathtaking.

The conquering Catholic Monarchs never completed their plasterwork ceiling. It junked up the room, if you ask us.

Sala de Los Mocárabes, the Stalactite Hall of Muqarnas 

This room most likely served as a reception hall due to its proximity to the palace entrance. It took its name from a vault of stepped plaster brackets resembling stalactites known as mocárabes, or muqarnas in Arabic, that once covered it. It’s believed that these ornamental vaults were a symbolic representation of the cave where the Angel Gabriel revealed the Qur’an to the Prophet Muhammed. Sadly, these mocárabes were removed due to the explosion of a powder magazine in 1590.

An incomplete plaster ceiling featuring the imperial shield of Felipe II and the initials of Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile were added to replace the mocárabes in 1614. 

The Slaying of the Abencerrajes by Marià Fortuny, 1870

Sala de los Abencerrajes, Site of a Massacre

This beautiful chamber is steeped in lore and is the site of one of the Alhambra’s most popular legends — like something out of Game of Thrones.

According to one version of the tale, Sa’d, the 20th sultan of the Nasrid dynasty, and his brother Muhammad XIII, were worried about the growing political power of a prominent noble family, whose surname was Abencerraje. The sultan was told that the Abencerrajes were plotting against him. He invited the chief noblemen of the Abencerraje family to a banquet — and set about unceremoniously massacring them. The legend continues, suggesting that the reddish-brown stains on the marble fountain in the center of the hall are traces of blood from the 36 slain Abencerrajes. 

With cherubs adorning its exterior, the Palace of Charles V feels very different than the rest of the Alhambra. In fact, it pales in comparison to the ornate opulence of the Palace of the Lions.

Palacio de Carlos V, the Palace of Charles V

Also located within the complex, the extravagant Renaissance-style Palace of Charles V is a striking contrast to the Moorish architecture of the Alhambra. During the occupation of the Christian monarchy, Charles V (1500-1558) visited the Alhambra and decided to build a grand palace there as a wedding gift to his wife, Isabella.

Portrait of Charles V on Horseback by Anthony van Dyck, 1620

The palace was designed in 1528 by Pedro Machuca, though construction didn’t begin until 1553. Unfortunately, the project was abandoned in 1568 before it was completed, owing to the rebellion of the Moors in Granada, and remained unfinished until Leopoldo Torres Balbás devised a plan to restore the building in 1923. 

The two-story colonnade that encircles the palace

Its façade is embellished with bronze rings held in the mouths of lion heads, except for the corners, which are held by eagles. Inside is a circular peristyle courtyard. It felt like the interior of the Colosseum, with visitors strangely exposed from every angle.

The open-aired circular court of Charles V’s palace at the Alhambra, which felt like an arena to us

By this time, Wally and I were both experiencing sensory overload. We returned our headsets to our guide and exited through the Puerta de la Justicia (Gate of Justice). 

Touring the Alhambra had been a dream of Wally’s ever since he saw a report on it while studying abroad. He was stuck spending the winter in Germany studying Bauhaus architecture, which he found boring.

Getting There

Wally and I walked from our accommodations at Casa Horno del Oro in the Albaicín neighborhood until we reached the Plaza Nueva, Granada’s oldest square. From there you’ll follow Cuesta de Gomérez, the pedestrian street leading to the Alhambra. When you reach the Puerta de las Granadas (Gate of the Pomegranates), continue uphill until you reach the entrance pavilion. It’s a steep walk, but you can make it there in about 15-20 minutes.

A guided tour of the Alhambra cost about 46€ at the time we visited. –Duke

Exit through the gift shop.