Devour.

Meet Maria

worldnomadsscholarship — Tue, 8 Sep 2015 04:48:52 GMT

I am an aspiring producer and director of travel and food based content for television, film and web based platforms. I've had a couple of careers but I have finally found my calling. I am a Masters of Media student at RMIT (one year through), with a focus on film, television, web production and social media strategy. I have produced some short documentaries for my studies and am capable of: camera operation (z5, 5D etc), operating sound kits, mics (lapel, shotgun) and basic lighting (although my submission was shot on an i-phone). I can also edit using Adobe Premier Pro, After Effects and Photoshop and I produce my own soundtracks using logic x. I have been travelling and living abroad for the last 15 years and now have a global family. My own heritage is a mix of Hungarian, Melanesian, German and British, yet I was born and grew up in Australia. As such I have had many cultural influences and appreciate diversity. I speak Spanish from backpacking in South America and living in Spain. When I travel i am outgoing and spontaneous and will always err on the side of hanging out with locals rather than oversaturated touristic activities. I prefer to gain an authentic experience and share my own experiences along the way in a respectful manner. This would be the most invaluable way to get my work in front of a huge, global, online audience, and the opportunity to be mentored by Brian Rapsey would be phenomenal in gaining some industry insight and improving my technical skills.

A Perilous Path

worldnomadsscholarship — Wed, 27 May 2015 01:42:38 GMT

My most memorable travel discoveries are special places, journey’s, or experiences outside my realm. Occasionally, it’s all three. The cycle down El camino de la muerte (Death Road) in Bolivia from an altitude of 4700m, where the immense mountains unite with the sky in ethereal glory, is the ultimate travel trifecta. Death Road’s actual name is the Yungas and stretches 64km from LaCumbre to Coroico; one of the three main coca-growing regions in Bolivia.Despite an innate fear of heights, hypoxia and death, I was enticed by an ad on a dilapidated shopfront window in LaPaz and asked the guide what my chances were of making it down alive? He laughed, “its not myth, many people have died on the Yungas but if you’re careful you’ll be ok”. The following dawn we drove from LaPaz to LaCumbre with bikes far from the ones I envisaged tearing around the contours of the tour de France, but that to my relief had gears, suspension and importantly dual brakes. I was cautioned, “try not to hit any large rocks as it could turn the handlebars and when you are going fast you could..” his unfinished sentence was explicitly understood. Helmets strapped and gloves tightened we set off with gusto amidst further warnings to grip the handlebars tightly, stay on the inside of the road and remain in single file. After a gradual incline through ghostly clouds an omnipresent view crystallised of infinite mountains and dramatic drops down into the tree-lined ravine. Ready for momentum we began our beguiling descent of the unsealed road around the under bite of the mountain’s face. The road was the narrow width of a car nevertheless stopping bays permitted two-way traffic. We braked to await a standoff between a car and a lorry until the car was outmuscled and reversed terrifyingly around a blind corner back to a bay. There are no barriers to protect cars or cyclists; just a callous vertical drop into the abyss. I focused ahead, squinting through the golden plume of Andean dust that preceded me. Rocks were expelled as my tyres pounded the indeterminate surface. Unlike the first uphill test of physical strength, the subsequent 55km was an exercise in control of handlebars, speed and gross trepidation. It’s a treacherous 5hr ride, but white fisted and exhilarated we finally reached the colourfully quaint village of Coroico. A short stocky woman with long dark plats graciously brought us some coca-leaf tea to numb the pain in our cuellos and prepare us for the bus ride back up Death Road.

The Beats of Bahia

worldnomadsscholarship — Wed, 14 May 2014 11:37:35 GMT

I wake up disorientated to the incessant beating of drums. It’s barely daylight. I look out the hostel window. “Where is it coming from?” I ask. “It’s the drumming school practicing for the festival”. Like the sirens in London or prayers in Fez, the Afro-Brazilian drums and bongos set the pace of life in Salvador de Bahia.
Drawn to the drumming I set off from the Pelourinho to explore the undulating streets lined with churches and multicolored houses. Graffiti depicting slavery, capoeira and resilient faces tattoo the city walls revealing a unique cultural tapestry and struggle Bahian’s continue to face. A myriad of favelas (Brazilian slums) blanket the surrounding mountains.
I approach Nena, a vendor selling jewellery and her partner in crime Gabriel, bongos tucked under one arm and a staunch afro. An iridescent feather drapes from Nena’s ear, her signature piece. Unlike at home, this jewellery stall has no walls or locks protecting theft; just the confines of a weathered leather briefcase with a strap around her neck to sell in transit. Nena smiles “I’m from Venezuela and Gabriel is from Bahia”. I buy a bracelet. The materials are raw but exquisitely crafted. Nena is an artist.
I visit each day, never in the same place. I invite them for lunch and they take me to a discreet local nook for acaraje, a typical fried bread made from black-eyed peas. We chat about Venezuela and the vicissitudes of life in Bahia. “Where do you live now?” I ask. Nena glances at the dilapidated buildings beyond the city centre “in the favelas”.
On my last night I go to say goodbye. A festival menaces the streets where caprinhas fly from shanty bars and the drumming school pounds in melodic protest. I find Gabriel with bongos, his hands dancing effortlessly on the hide; Nena busy selling. The drumming has hypnotised the city into a seductive trance, “come back to our place we will teach you to play”.
We wind down backstreets and the drumming fades. The contrast in affluence just blocks away is affronting. A small crowd mills outside a grey dimly lit building that stands precarious like a half played game of Jenga, collapsing onto and supporting its neighbors. Inside a hammock stretches between two walls and a tent is pitched on the bare floor. Nena bolts the door behind us.
Gabriel passes me bongos and begins to teach me a basic rhythm. It looks easy, but like Nena’s jewellery is an art. Nena hands me a single feather earring, her signature piece, “something to remember us”.

Photos: Morocco

worldnomadsscholarship — Fri, 14 Mar 2014 10:43:00 GMT

food and frolicks

Passport & Plate - Moroccan Fish Tagine

worldnomadsscholarship — Fri, 14 Mar 2014 10:03:46 GMT

Ingredients
(serves 4)

Ingredients

3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

2 carrots roughly chopped

1 brown onion finely chopped

1 tsp preserved lemon finely chopped

8 large cherry tomatos halved

8 small new or chat potatoes cut lengthways into quarters

750ml fish stock

4 medium sized fillets of firm white fish (Ocean Perch, Mahi Mahi, Kingfish, Blue-Eye Trevalla) cut into large chunks

handful of small black olives

salt and pepper

Chermoula

½ large bunch roughly chopped coriander

3 cloves garlic finely chopped

1 tsp ginger finely chopped

1 tsp freshly ground cumin seeds (or ground cumin)

1 red finger chili seeded

4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

1 ½ tsp sweet paprika

1 tsp salt

1 lemon (juice only)

1 tsp saffron strands

To serve

Fresh coriander leaves

1 red finger chili

1 green finger chili

How to prepare this recipe
Method

1. Blend all the ingredients for the chermoula in a food processor until smooth.

2. Heat oil in large heavy based pan over medium heat.

3. Add onion and fry gently for 5 min.

4. Add carrot and fry for further 3 minutes.

5. Add 1/3 of the chermoula, the preserved lemon, the tomatoes and the stock, bring to the boil and then simmer for 15 min.

7. Add the potatoes and simmer for a further 15 min covering with lid of tagine.

8. Add the remaining chermoula and the fillets of fish so they are submerged in the liquid and simmer for 6 minutes covered (or until fish is just cooked and tender).

9. Season with salt and pepper and add olives.

10. To serve, spoon tagine into bowls and garnish with fresh coriander and finely sliced red and green finger chili’s.

The story behind this recipe
I knocked on the door to the cooking quarters of our Essaouiran Riad to request some mint tea and was warmly greeted by Kassim who ushered me inside. “Please this is you’re home”. Simmering away over the gas stove were two fish tagines for Kassim and his boss. The oceanic, spicy scents emanating from the conical lids had pervaded the entire kitchen and flirted with my nostrils.

A small plate of sumptuous stew was cooling on the table and within moments Kassim had a fork in my hand offering a taste of his dish with humble generosity. Overwhelmed by the gesture and salivating at the prospect of trying a home cooked version of this quintessential Moroccan meal, I tucked in.

The flesh was meaty and subtle in flavor, perhaps swordfish and was accompanied by roughly chopped potatoes, carrots, lemon, and an abundance of coriander and spices. I asked Kassim what type of fish he had used and he replied “fish caught from my family”, pointing towards the coast.

I realised from his discerning reply that it didn’t matter what type of fish it was, but that it was fresh, local and typical to this region. The ingredients are necessarily cheap but the flavours have depth and the dish embodies the colours and textures of a lively culture steeped in history and religion.

Kassim asked eagerly “You like?” I explained this was the best tagine I had tried and afterwards wandered down to the harbour, passed the white washed homes with blue shutters, through the souks, to the trawlers and dinghy’s huddled together where the fish had arrived this morning. The people of Essaouira were clearly in tune with their sea and intent on enjoying its offerings.

On a two week food, cultural and religious exploration of Morocco this interaction had a real impact on me both due to Kassim’s kindness in his offering, but also the insight it gave me into the food culture of this region which I felt a particular connection to given my upbringing in a small coastal town and inherent love of seafood.

Photos: Corsica

worldnomadsscholarship — Tue, 20 Aug 2013 22:55:00 GMT

Photos: Budapest

worldnomadsscholarship — Mon, 7 Jan 2013 18:44:00 GMT

Food & Frolicks

Photos: Florence/ Sienna

worldnomadsscholarship — Thu, 30 Aug 2012 15:16:00 GMT

Photos: Barcelona

worldnomadsscholarship — Sat, 21 Jul 2012 06:25:00 GMT

Food & Frolicks

My Scholarship entry - Understanding a Culture through Food

worldnomadsscholarship — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 08:33:30 GMT

A neat dollop of potently pink shrimp paste, glistening red chilli slivers, finely diced garlic and galangal, and a handful of cheeky shallots chopped with precision lit up the sterile silver bench, each perfectly portioned into tiny white ramekins. Immaculately peeled prawns lazed alongside satin white tubes of squid, accompanied by a lush bunch of sweet basil, a lone coriander stem and a naked, exceptionally yellow chunk of pumpkin. Evidently the kitchen hands that outnumbered the students had been diligent before class.
Taking a class at SITCA cooking school, Chaweng beach, is a fine way to spend an afternoon in Koh Samui, Thailand, where you are guaranteed to come away with much more than a recipe booklet, a Thai themed dinner party menu and a full belly. As a Thai cooking novice but general cooking enthusiast, I was astounded by the depth of knowledge that lay beyond the friendly greeting and chilled chrysanthemum tea. After flipping with anticipation through the recipes, my initial disappointment with the extent of preparation that had preceded the class was replaced with relief. The menu was ambitious with three main dishes, each of which was a meal in its own right. Forget gentrified pad thai, the draw card here was the less renowned yet deliciously complex “choo chee” seafood curry. Even the mild version (according to the heat barometer) of this spicy southern favorite will put an unaccustomed tourist’s pallet to a teary eyed test!
As I ground the choo chee into a fiery paste with all the strength I could muster, our teacher divulged the local origin of each ingredient, how and by whom it was harvested and its primary or periphery role in Thai cuisine. For an island whose economy once survived off coconut crops and fishing, its no wonder these two ingredients feature heavily in much of the local fare. After finishing our prep we zealously fired up the woks, ready to put this choo chee show on the road. The end result? Culinary success, tears and much joy.

Photos: Bangkok, Koh Samui

worldnomadsscholarship — Wed, 1 Feb 2012 14:09:00 GMT

Food & Frolicks