the earth ink

If I could wish upon a Michelin Star, I would wish to have Chef Henrik Yde-Anderson prepare another creative dish for me. Representing more than just Thai flavors with his signature twists, the Chef integrates his life experiences and stories into each creation - and his menu items are truly a 'creation.' He embraces his freedom to "mix and match," as he puts it, the inspirations and cuisines he explores different cultures and ingredients. I know the prerequisites to earn a Michelin Star are involved and set to the highest standards. However, to me, the beauty of a Michelin Chef rests in a distinct ability to pair and share the essence of ingredients by understanding how they dance and merge on the tongue. Chef Henrik's Tuna Tartare with Crispy Lotus reflected this to me with an impeccable mingling of flavors that started with a burst of sweet, quickly followed by the heart-warming and slightly savory taste of the tartare. His brilliance is artfully presented ...

Beyond the tour, the people posturing for perfect photography, and the nagging desire to constantly tug a shayla (headscarf) tight around my face, it remains impossible to miss the calm and worshipful atmosphere at Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque. Like floating through a manic airport or hearing my footsteps in my empty high school gymnasium, this modern architectural wonder emboldens me to remember how small my individual physical frame is within the the vast gentle grandeur of the structure. The place compels me to humbly turning inward; recognizing how sacred the soul of my being remains as part of God's Creation. A place of Islamic worship, anyone is invited to visit this Mosque. People of all cultures, religions, and geographical locales use the space as a place for quiet reflection. Tours peruse the grounds several times each day while a guide introduces the group to the Mosque's history, design, and construction - along with a brief explanation about several of the pillars...

Caviar. A margin more intimidating than wine, but les s terrifying than figuring out what's behind f oie gras' buttery flavour (it's fattened duck or goose liver), I had indulged in caviar only once or twice before - completely ignorant of the fine art of tasting the delicacy. In fact, I only have a vague recollection that I didn't not like it. Upon invitation to Emirates Palace for a caviar masterclass, my immediate inclination was to relish the opportunity to learn something new. I popped over to the Palace for lunch under bluebird skies and dancing fountains; and descended to the ground floor where, just off the sea, is Sayad Restaurant. Sayad, meaning fisherman in Arabic, is, quite appropriately, a seafood restaurant and the perfect venue for a taste of caviar. Greeted with a bit of bubbly before I had even dropped the few stairs into the restaurant's aquamarine sanctuary, I immediately felt effervescent, like I was underwater with fish tanks flanking the ...

Brunch. The word is nearly synonymous with community. A brunch brings people together. It honors its guests with flavours and friendship. People gather around food to share and communicate - and some of life's most intimate moments are exchanged over a meal. In the United Arab Emirates hotels know how to do brunch well. It's a Friday brunch - Friday is the first day of the weekend in the Arabian Peninsula. Gathering together for a fine food frenzy is an award for reaching the end of the work week and a beautiful way to celebrate the weekend, among other things. Extravagant and artful culinary displays thoughtfully adorn every corner of chosen resort restaurants. Flavours and colours allure the eye as much as they tantalise the tastebuds and entice every patron's nose with fragrant and bold aromas. Sensational seafood, mounds of cheeses, grapes, nuts, endless roasts of lamb and fine cuts of Australian beef, turkey, chicken, shawarma, salads, fruits, breads, alongsid...

I am sitting at London Heathrow International Airport, fervently folding paper stars and occasionally giving one away. A six hour layover, with a travel assignment, nearly complete that should have been done two days ago - and all I am doing is making paper stars. Once an origami pattern is learned, it is rather easy to recreate the same folds rather mindlessly. After several months of work deadlines and a social itinerary that increased as the weather cooled off in Abu Dhabi, I need the mindlessness. On this occasion, it gives me time to contemplate. I'm contemplating why I'm making paper stars. Usually, when I fly over the Christmas holiday, I have a quiver of candy canes delicately tucked in my carry on. I ask check-in agents, security, and flight attendants if I can give them a candy cane and it never fails to put a smile on every face. The small gesture seems to relieve that hectic holiday stress of navigating an airport and security in crowded queues and amongst wea...

I never expected to witness a woman desperately throwing her hand into a fresh, mushy pile of gorilla poo. She unceremoniously grabbed into the brown sludge to balance herself while ascending a hill of leafy green foliage while attempting to keep up with a family of gorillas and make the most of our allotted one hour with them in their natural environment. As Bwindi Impenetrable National Park's name suggests, the tangled thicket of trees, bushes, and green ground coverings on the steep, damp, fertilised hills of the Forest remain impenetrable in places. Our merciful porters assisted our group of eight through the Forest—carrying our bags, holding our hands, and occasionally lifting members of our group across slippery spots, while AK-47 armed military and police guides tramped ahead and behind to guard us all against a highly unusual, but not impossible forest elephant encounter. Diverting off the main trail, our gorilla trekking guide bushwhacked the mass of vines and branches...

I normally do not post so many photos in a blog, but this story, this location, and this event seems particularly unusual. This happened several weeks ago on the Big Island of Hawaii. ----- He told me I was going to have a dinner that I might not be able to indulge in two weeks from that day. Already slightly blurred by an early morning drive from the Kohala Coast to Hilo—and picking up a dormant friendship after a year, I suspected a seasonal crustacean or rare crop of taro would be on the menu. Whatever was in store for me, I assumed it would be memorable. Though aware of a lava flow, the size of a 20-lane highway, baring down on the town of Pāhoa, it had not occurred to me that he would tour us on a potentially last visit to a potentially non-existent town. Only a few moments after turning off Highway 130 our conversations quickly changed—from catching up with each other to the tangible sights of a town nearing its end. Questions mounted audibly between us while many remaine...