My Milkshake

I haven't really had any weird pregnancy food cravings yet.  Extreme food cravings in general, yes, to the point where I nearly punched Romain in the face the other day for suggesting we share a cheese baguette when I could have easily eaten six by myself.

But nothing crazy or obscure.

Except for chocolate milkshakes.  Which I ordinarily wouldn't classify as obscure, but which, evidently are extremely difficult to come by in the Balkans.

My quest for a chocolate milkshake has taken me across 3 countries in the peninsula.

First time the craving hit I was in Skopje in Macedonia.  I became dementedly thirsty for a chocolate milkshake after what had been a rather stressful morning at the French Embassy trying to sort out my visa.  So we sat down at a cafe and I casually ordered one.

Nope, said the waitress.  Nothing like that here.  How about a juice?

A juice!  I cried.  How about you take that juice and jam it in your earhole!!

Well, I didn't really say that.  But I thought it.  And it wasn't an earhole.

Romain took the juice and I sat there silently fuming.  Then we found a food court and low and behold a McDonalds type place, except it wasn't McDonalds but some Balkan version.  And they had milkshakes on the menu!!

I'll have one chocolate milkshake please!  I beamed.

Nope, said the cashier.  We don't have them.

But they are on the menu!! I cried.  And you have a machine!!  I said frantically pointing at what was clearly a milkshake making device.

Nope, sorry, it's broken.  He said.

Oh the humanity!!!  So I silently fumed for a bit longer.  And half-way satisfied my cravings with an 'exotic smoothie' from a juice stand that had mango and avocado in it, and wasn't too bad actually.

But it was no chocolate milkshake.

The second time the craving hit I was in Greece, having just sat through a very long and thorough but thankfully positive 22 week scan.

To celebrate I wanted nothing more than a chocolate milkshake.

Surely they'll have them at the hospital cafeteria, I thought.  Mistakenly.

Nope, said the waitress.  No chocolate milkshakes.  How about this boring looking container of chocolate milk instead?

I reluctantly settled for it, but even after giving it a bit of a shake to make it frothy it still didn't come close.

This morning I woke up almost climbing the walls I was so thirsty for a chocolate milkshake.  So when Romain suggested we make a late afternoon trip to the American Military Base - Camp Bondsteel - I heartily agreed.  I knew that there was a Burger King there, so I knew that I was only hours away from getting my milkshake.  Hooray!

Camp Bondsteel is like some crazy, camouflaged and heavily guarded dream world where the US have thousands of soldiers living together in a compound just in case the shit hits the fan again in Kosovo.  There are several bases like this around Kosovo, a French one, a German one and another mixed one I think.  Bondsteel is about a 40 minute drive from Gjilan.  Not everyone is allowed onto the base but we are!

Inside it is kitted out with sports facilities, a barber, a supermarket AND a food hall that has a Taco Bell, a pizza place, a Thai restaurant and a Burger King

Crazy stuff.  Especially considering there are no other Burger Kings in Kosovo and only one other Thai restaurant that I know of.  And there are real Thai people cooking the Thai food, so it is really good stuff.

I feel like a wiki-leaker even talking about Camp Bondsteel, but it has it's own Wikipedia entry with all the info on it.  Have a look.

Usually when we go there (about every 6 weeks or so) I opt for a curry from the Thai place, but this afternoon I beelined for Burger King, where, proudly on display on their illuminated menu board was a milkshake meal deal.

I'll have one of those please!!  I grinned.

Nope, said the man.  We don't have milkshakes here.

But the menu says!  I said.

Nope.  Sorry.  None.  Bugger off you crazy pregnant lady (well he didn't say that, but I'm pretty sure he was thinking it).

I stood shocked.  This was too cruel.  As I slumped dejectedly away from the counter and past a table full of soldiers in their fatigues happily munching away on their burgers, I saw, like a beacon, the cafe counter at the other end of the mess hall, where, if I wasn't mistaken, they had milkshakes on their menu.

I wasn't sure I could handle a second let-down in one day, so timidly I asked the waitress if they had milkshakes.

Yes.  she said.

Oh great!!  I cried.  I'll have a chocolate one!!

Wait, she said, I don't think I have anymore chocolate ice-cream.  Let me check.

Oh no!  I cried.  A vanilla or strawberry milkshake just wasn't going to cut it.

But, happily, she did.  And so I paid one American dollar extra to make it an 'extra thick' milkshake and ended up with pretty much a litre of melted chocolate ice-cream which made my cheeks ache as I tried to suck it through the straw and left me feeling completely bilious.

But sated.  Hopefully for at least another six weeks.

Afterwards we went to the PX (what the Americans call their military base supermarkets) and bought all sorts of things that you can't find in Kosovo supermarkets, like bacon and Hagen Dazs butter pecan ice-cream and Canada Dry Ginger Ale.  And a myriad of other things that we didn't need, but bought anyway, because the PX is so enchanting and makes you do things like that.  It has a whole aisle of American lollies (candies?) that I've only ever come to know through reading The Baby Sitters Club or watching Seinfeld or the Goonies - like Junior Mints and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and Baby Ruths.  And a deep freezer section with lots of pork-based products and also things like Country Crock dairy spread and Bubba Burgers.  It is also the only place I've ever been shopping where pretty much every other shopper is armed with a semi-automatic rifle.

Ah, Kosovo.

Our Bondsteel Booty.  The yellow plastic bag contains tupperware containers that we had the good Thai people fill with their delicious curries, so that we can freeze them and have 'Thai take-away' when we feel like it.  Clever, hey!  Maybe next time I'll take an esky and order 17 milkshakes that I can also freeze and have on hand, so that poor Romain doesn't have to suffer through my deranged cravings in the future.

The Camp Bondsteel cafeteria is NOT like a Kelis music video.

Keanu Reeves was NOT the cashier at the Burger King counter.

22 Weeks

Starting to look properly pregnant now.  The massive dinner I just ate at Cuco's and the horizontal stripes probably also help with my image, but I think I'm now beyond the point where people would look at me and think "is she pregnant, or is that just a beer belly?".

My Big Fat Greek Belly

Just back from a weekend in Greece and oh the food I ate!  I was too busy eating to take any photos but I can assure you it was everything I could have hoped for from Greek cuisine and more.

Here I am bobbing around in the amazing waters of Karidi Beach in Halkidiki.  Both the baby and I enjoyed this immensely.

This is me at 5 months!

Pot Luck Dinner

You've gotta love a pot luck dinner.  Even more so when you are living in a town where there is really only one decent restaurant (Cuco's - and worthy of its own blog entry at a later date) and all your friends are really good cooks.

Which is fortunately the case for us!

A group of us try to get together once a week at someone's house for a meal.  Originally the host would cook for everyone, but now that our numbers have grown a bit, that task has become a bit daunting for some so we've reverted to pot luck dinners for a while.

This week Ewelina finished up her contract and will soon be on her way to Mongolia via Australia (she is half Polish-half Australian) to start a contract with the UN.  So Julie hosted a farewell pot luck dinner in her honour.

I think everyone took the opportunity to show off a bit, because the food was out of sight.

Camille made these really delicious green things called Pkhali.  They are a Georgian recipe, based on spinach and nuts.  Camille is French but lived in Georgia for a year or so.

Julie the hostess with the mostess made a mountain of veggie spring rolls.  So many that we all got to take some home for lunch the next day.  Hooray for leftovers!

Julie the hostess with the mostess made a mountain of veggie spring rolls.  So many that we all got to take some home for lunch the next day.  Hooray for leftovers!

Maryse made a spiffy zucchini and pine nut salad.

And some marinated fried eggplant, which she looks positively unhappy with in this photo, despite the fact they were scrumptious.

Ewelina made Polish dumplings, which I think are called Pierogi.  She filled them with potato and cheese and they were truly delectable, making her imminent departure all the more disappointing.

Romain slaved away in our tiny hot kitchen for 2 nights preparing his tagine, made with chicken and veggies and spices we brought back from Istanbul (because we really ARE show offs!)  And here he is taking it from the oven at Julie's place.

And looking unimpressed with the fact that I am trying to capture the moment on film

It was totally worth all the effort though because it was sensational.

My contribution was chocolate walnut brownies, which went down a treat.

The baby heartily agreed that it was a delicious feast and rewarded our efforts with a night of sleep not interrupted by kicking and squirming.  Or maybe I had just eaten so much that I totally crowded him or her out, and there was no room for the regular wriggling.

Bring on more pot luck dinners, I say.

Buda Belly

I'm 21 weeks pregnant now and I've got a good buda belly to show for it.

Although it is very hard to believe, the internet tells me that the little dude is now 26 cm long and weighs around 300 grams or more.  About the same weight as this box of Buda Feta Cheese from Hungary.  I really like the box.  

Bikkies and milk

A batch of beautiful bikkies cooling near the window.  Coconut and choc chip!

I'm about to eat too many with a glass of ice-cold milk.

yes!

Cherry Cheer!

Going back a few months now, it was cherry season in Kosovo!

My pregnancy-driven hunger saw me taking food photos even before I started this blog, so I might dump a few of the older pics up here too.

People bring their fresh produce from their small farms and sell it on the streets.  There was a guy who set up on the same corner near all the mobile phone hawkers every day for about a month.  He had a set of scales so you could just grab a handful, weigh, pay and go.

We've also had strawberry season and now we're on to stone fruits.  I bought some delicious peaches from a street fruit lady the other day and baked them in the oven, drizzled them with honey and ate them with a dollop of mascarpone.  So good!

This is what I made with the cherries - a cherry clafoutis.  It was pretty good too, if I do say so myself.

20 weeks

Here is a pic of me sporting my 20 week belly.  And a zucchini.

I think the baby might weigh around the same as this zucchini now, maybe the same length too.

Zucchinis here are top notch.  They are more of a buttery yellow colour than the dark green ones I was previously familiar with.  And a little bit sweeter.

And they make a delicious zucchini and broccoli soup!

Street Donuts

Now that it is summer and the days are long and hot in Kosovo, the streets have sprouted a variety of day & night food vendors.  Corn on the cob cooked on open grills is popular, as are popcorn stands, stands selling fairy-floss and piles of roasted nuts and pumpkin seeds.  The other night coming home from dinner we passed a vendor selling mini donuts, which our friend Azur insisted I buy an extra large bag of - I think because he is on a diet and wanted to eat vicariously.  It was a pretty cool set-up, with the donuts made fresh at the stand.  You could watch them being punched out and then travelling down their little conveyor belt of hot oil before being spat out into a bowl of sugar.  Azur wanted mine (his) served with extra lashings of chocolate sauce.

They were tasty but very rich!  Azur helped me finish them off.

Me with my donuts in front of the donut stand

Donuts served hot, dusted with icing sugar
and doused in chocolate sauce

Tomat-TOES

We have become experts in balcony gardening.  Although we had a fair sized garden in Port Vila, it was really John's terrain, and best left under his skilful care.

But the balcony was ours!  And we grew some awesome stuff.  We had a beautiful batch of nasturtiums (my all time favourite flower), rockin' roquette lettuce, bright red cherry tomatoes, untamable mint, thyme, sage and a forrest of basil.  And we used all the herbs in nearly every meal because it was too easy just to walk onto the balcony and grab a bunch.

Now that the weather has warmed up in Gjilan and we don't have to deal with snow or even frost, we've been able to get some stuff growing here too.  Unfortunately the lack of tropical climate and the current daily scorching temperatures mean that things don't grow as lusciously as they did in Vanuatu, but Romain has had some decent success with his cherry tomato crop, and there is a nice tuft of basil growing up as well as mint and lettuce leaves on their way.

So nice to eat home grown stuff.

Romain harvests his crop

Menaced Meat!

There are a few restaurants around Kosovo offering international cuisine.  Not many, but the ones that do exist do a pretty good job.

One favourite is the Nepalese restaurant in the capital Pristina.  It wins the prize for being the most obscurely located restaurant - in a shopping mall away from the town centre that closes at 5, which means you end up eating amongst all these barred-up shops.  A bit of a creepy ambience.  But the food more than makes up for it.

I've cut out all the other shops with their vacant-eyed mannequins from this shot,
so the place looks pretty good!

We made a special trip last week to Pristina just to eat their curries.  The house speciality - Himalayan Gorkha curry with lamb or chicken -  is our staple, but there are plenty of other offerings on the menu.

Number 57, for example, if you like your meals traumatised.

Or if you are looking for something more zen, how but number 73?

 

Here are our friends Ben and Maryse, totally peaced out over their meal.

Appetising Appetisers

But it really is worth the wait.

A pear in love!

A pear of lovebirds.

Grapefruit

 

A belly shot - at around 18 weeks.  Apparently the little fella weighs about the same as this grapefruit, but is nearly as long as a banana....

It still just kind of looks and feels like I've had a big dinner.  Except my dinner is going crazy and wriggling and rolling all over the place.

Flia

Coming back from our Sunday picnic we came across this cute little road-side caravan, selling a Kosovo favourite – Flia.

The Flia Van

I don’t know how they make flia or even exactly what the ingredients are, but what it looks and tastes like is a stack of very thin crepes, all packed tightly together, and fused together with oil and a little bit of salt.

Flia - not the prettiest bakery item on the block

Most bakeries in Kosovo sell flia.  They take a big round wheel of flia and cut it into wedges like a pie then wrap it in greaseproof paper so you can take it away for your lunch.

You are supposed to pick it up with your hands and munch it down, ideally washed down with a drink of yoghurt.

I’ve had a few flias in my time so far, and my preferred way of eating flia - which I think is genius, actually – is to treat it like it IS a stack of crepes, thereby drizzling it with lemon, sprinkling it with sugar and turning it into a sweet treat, rather than a lunchtime savoury snack.  My preference, however, is probably driven by the fact that I am crazy for sugar these days, which they say means I will have a girl (we’ve decided not to find out).

We stopped at the Flia caravan in the hills and got a take-away flia, the last one of the day.  We got chatting to the owners in very broken Albanian/English.  

Flia lady in her kitchen

Turns out they had spent 5 months in Melbourne as refugees during the Kosovo war, which makes four people I’ve met here now who did the same thing.  I’m going to try and do some research on what our refugee program was for Kosovars during that time.  Australia seems like a very long way to go, considering most people just went across the border to neighbouring countries like Macedonia, where there was an enormous refugee camp.  I guess those camps must have been completely overwhelmed, however.  They say the total number of refugees during the war was 850,000, which is huge considering the population of Kosovo was only around 2 million at the time.

Romain discusses the meaning of life with the Flia people

Anyway, we’ve been invited back for coffee and flia another time.  And from what I could gather, assistance with filling out their Australian visa applications.  We’d probably work our way through 7 wheels of flia in the time it would take to get through those hideous forms.