Not a PITA

Sunday night, I headed to the East end for a home-made dinner. As the host likes to make everything from scratch, I was looking forward to some good eats. His toddler was helping him rolling out the dough to make middle-eastern pita. Having kitchen skills from a young age should hold the boy in good stead .

As it was the first time at making this flatbread, there was some question about when to remove the pita. Too early and it will be under-cooked and insufficiently fluffy; too late and it will be dry and cracked. The first few tasted great, warm and fresh from the oven, but resembled some sort of oddly shaped whole wheat bread. But the remaining got the balance right and resulted in thin, fragrant shells.

Along with the pita was an arugula salad with pink grapefruit, some lightly spiced chicken coated with a sweet harissa-based sauce, and a pan of sweet potatoes and pressure-cooked chickpeas. All were great but the last was my favourite. It was hearty and perfect for a winter's eve; I almost wished for the colder weather from earlier in the week. What made the dish for me was the occasional burst of basil which cleansed the palate for the next bite.

We over-indulged in dessert, though. What started as some Dutch stroopwafel from Schep's with oolong tea led to home-made bourbon-soaked fruitcake and finally organic chocolate, chocolate shells from Soma, and gritty Mexican-style dark chocolate.