Dianne Konz has taught Spanish literature, language and civilization at the University of Texas at Austin and at George Washington University. She has also lectured and published studies on Spanish and Latin American literature, and Spanish culture.

Recently, Dianne and a group of Smithsonian Journeys travelers explored the Paradores and Pousadas of the Iberian Peninsula.

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One of the highlights of Paradores and Pousadas was a visit to Don Diego’s olive farm near Ronda.  Upon arrival, we were greeted by our charming, witty, and knowledgeable host and invited into his home for a tapas lunch.  But in addition to the various tapas, Don Diego offered us a delicious Sephardic soup of Moroccan origin called harira.   I loved the blend of flavors – exotic spices, earthy legumes, fresh herbs, small bits of meat.  Here at home, I’ve been researching recipes for harira and experimenting in my own kitchen.  The recipe that follows is a close as I’ve come – for now – to replicating Don Diego’s dish.

This zesty, satisfying soup is good anytime, including in warm weather.  It is hearty, but not heavy.  The fragrant spices are lightened by the fresh cilantro and a touch of lemon juice.  Harira has traditional roles as well: as a Moroccan soup of Muslim tradition, it is frequently served in the evening during Ramadan to break the fast, or in the early morning hours prior to a day of fasting. In the Sephardic tradition, harira is often served to break the fast after Yom Kippur.

Harira. (Photo by author.)

Harira

Ingredients:
4 oz. dried chickpeas (garbanzos) soaked overnight, OR, 1 ½ cups canned chickpeas, rinsed and drained (15 oz. can)
¾  to 1 lb. lean beef, such as good quality stew meat, OR, ¾ to 1 lb. coarsely ground lean beef
2 tablespoons olive oil
¾ – 1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 large onion, chopped small (1 ½ cups)
2 stalks celery, chopped small (1 cup)
2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground turmeric, or 1 teaspoon saffron threads, ground in mortar and pestle
1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 28-oz. can diced tomatoes with juices
½ cup chopped fresh cilantro, plus 4 or 5 whole sprigs of cilantro
¼ cup broad-leaf parsley (optional)
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
4 oz. dried green or brown lentils
½ cup long grain rice
1 ½ quarts rich chicken stock.  If using boxed, use low-sodium, and simmer two 32 oz. cartons until they are reduced to about 6 or 7 cups.

Preparation:
Bring the chicken stock to a boil, then lower heat to medium and reduce it while you prepare the other ingredients.

Pick through the lentils to remove any stones, rinse them and set aside.

Cut the stew meat into small cubes and toss with salt and pepper.  Heat the olive oil in a heavy pot, such as a Dutch oven.  When oil is almost smoking, add about 1/3 of the meat and brown over medium-high heat, stirring, until cubes are well-browned and meat juice is evaporated.  Remove to a covered dish and continue cooking the meat in batches, adding a little more oil if necessary. Set the meat aside.

Add chopped onions and celery to the pan and cook, stirring, until they are softened but not browned.  Reduce heat to medium and add cinnamon, ginger, turmeric, nutmeg, and cumin, stirring continually for about 1 minute.  Do not overheat the spices, as it can make them bitter.

Return the meat to the pan and mix well with the vegetables and spices. Add tomatoes with their juices, stirring well over medium-high heat.  Throw in 4 or 5 whole sprigs of cilantro.  (These will be removed at the end.)

Stir in the chicken stock, the chickpeas, and half of the lentils and bring just to a boil.  Cover pot.  Reduce heat to medium-low or low, to maintain a gentle simmer.  Cook 1 ½ hours.  Meat cubes must be very tender and chickpeas cooked, but whole.

Remove the whole cilantro sprigs.  Add the rice and the remaining lentils, the lemon juice, and about ¼ cup chopped cilantro.  Return soup to a simmer, cover, and cook for 30 minutes.

When the rice and the lentils are cooked, remove lid and adjust seasonings.  If you like, refresh the flavors with a little more chopped cilantro, cinnamon, cumin, pepper and parsley, if you are using it.  Heat uncovered for a few minutes, and serve!

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Read more about Smithsonian Journeys’ Paradores and Pousadas tour here. 

Dianne Konz has taught Spanish literature, language, and civilization at the University of Texas at Austin and at George Washington University. She has also lectured and published studies on Spanish and Latin American literature, and Spanish culture.

Recently, Dianne and a group of Smithsonian Journeys travelers explored the Paradores and Pousadas of the Iberian Peninsula.

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Stepping out of the gorgeous 16th century palace –our home in Ubeda—onto the plaza ringed by golden brown Renaissance stone, it is hard not to feel the presence of the past.  The tranquil elegance of the beautiful square is undisturbed by the occasional passing of locals headed toward the church at one end, or the breathtaking overlook just down the street.  To the right, perhaps the most beautiful plaza in Spain, anchored by a majestic and serene Renaissance palace — today’s city hall.  A passing shower has left the smooth, timeless stones of the plaza glistening beneath our feet.  It is refreshingly cool this afternoon and the air is fragrant with the scent of wood-burning stoves and fireplaces.  We are off to get our bearings and discover the town.

Interior courtyard of the Úbeda Parador. (Photo courtesy of flickr user david_jones.)

Ubeda is a quiet city where single sounds emerge –church bells, lively conversations, children playing, a car passing.  As we amble down the narrow streets, we pass palaces that were once homes to wealthy and powerful figures in the 16th century Spanish court.  Elegant coats of arms carved in stone, like silverwork, adorn the surface of some façades, giving quiet witness to the families that lived there.  Today, these palaces are the backdrops for thoroughly modern and vibrant –yet traditional—Spanish life.  Our street gives way to another beautiful square with a bandstand in the center.  It is nearly the end of the school day and boys kick a soccer ball across a sandy playground.  The elegant palace ahead with the Italian-style loggia is now the local music school.  As we pass, I ask a teenager which instrument he studies.  He smiles, pats the case, and says with a wink, “Saxophone.”

The renaissance architecture of Úbeda. (Photo courtesy of flickr user martinvarsavsky.)

Down the way, we spot a ceramic store.  Beautiful earthenware glistens in the window and fills the entryway.   Warm browns and deep greens are the predominant local colors.  A unique cut-out style graces many pieces.  As we enter the store, the rich aroma of burning wood draws us to a fireplace along the sidewall.  The crackling fire casts a glow on the ceramics all around.  We approach to say hello to the owner’s wife, an attractive, dignified woman seated beside the fire.  She greets us warmly and gestures for us to come nearer to admire her three-week old granddaughter in the pram beside her.  A lively toddler –big sister –pulls up a small bentwood rocker to join them, singing quietly to herself.

Ceramic of Triana, Seville. Photo by Anual (Own work), via Wikimedia Commons

We wander to the back of the showroom, where the owner is deftly throwing a beautiful botijo –a traditional clay water jug—on a potter’s wheel.  I ask him about the distinctive cut-out patterns in some of his pieces.  It is called calado –“calao” in the softened Andalusian speech—a style introduced by Moorish craftsmen centuries ago.  He explains that the tall vases with the intriguing open work were used to burn aromatics –mint, rosemary, myrtle, and more –to “give atmosphere” to the room. Rather suddenly, the store fills with a large number of lively local teenagers, here on an excursion to view the potter’s craft.  As they circle around this outgoing artisan, he gives them his full attention, explaining his technique and answering questions.  They move down the narrow aisles, examining pieces, snapping photos on cell phones, and talking animatedly.  Amazingly, nothing hits the floor.  As they file out, the potter waves to them and returns to his wheel.  Once again, I am grateful for an up-close and personal view of modern Spaniards –of all ages—in this ancient and traditional urban landscape.

Read more about Smithsonian Journeys’ Paradores and Pousadas tour here.

Jodi Magness holds a senior endowed chair in the Department of Religious Studies at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She received her B.A. in archaeology and history from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, and her Ph.D. in Classical archaeology from the University of Pennsylvania.

In May, Jodi lead a group of Smithsonian Journey travelers around the Ancient Worlds of Anatolia.

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The Euphrates River: the name evokes images of the earliest civilizations, mighty ancient powers such as Assyria and Babylonia, and modern Middle Eastern conflicts.  And here we were, driving from the town of Gaziantep in southeastern Turkey to the Euphrates River for a boat ride!  I had the good fortune of accompanying The Ancient World of Anatolia, a tour of southeastern and central Turkey. As we drove, I craned my head for my first glimpse of the fabled river. Finally, we reached the river, driving along its banks until stopping at a spot where we all boarded a boat.  I chose to sit with about half of the group on the boat’s roof, for the best view of the river as we made our way upstream.

I thought about how this river provided not only vital drinking water in this arid region, but served as a main transportation artery for all of the peoples along the hundreds of miles alongside its banks.  And I thought about how millennia ago, humans began to utilize the river to irrigate agricultural fields.  Thanks to irrigation, farmers were able to produce surplus crops, which led to the rise of specialized crafts and industries, as not everyone had to grow food just to survive. As a result, hierarchical or stratified societies developed – that is, centralized forms of government – and with them, the need for writing to keep official records. All of these thoughts swirled through my mind as we glided along the Euphrates River.  Suddenly, I realized this was a “Kodak moment.”  Everyone agreed, quickly assembling on the roof of the boat for a group photo.

Smithsonian Journeys group exploring the Euphrates River. (Photo by author.)

After about an hour, we returned to the dock and disembarked.  I stepped down to the river bank and dipped my hand in, so I could say that I have touched the waters of the Euphrates River.  We drove back along the river bank the way we had come, stopping for a delicious Turkish lunch at a restaurant overlooking the water.  The meal began with bread served hot out of a traditional oven, followed by a delicious salad of fresh, locally grown vegetables.   For the main course, I enjoyed fresh grilled trout; other members of the group chose lamb kebabs or Euphrates fish kebabs.  This was one of the many highlights of our tour of southeastern and central Turkey.

Read more about Smithsonian Journeys’ Ancient Worlds of Anatolia tour here.

Thomas Emmert, professor emeritus at Gustavus Adolphus College, is a historian of Central and Eastern Europe with a research focus on the former Yugoslavia. He received his B.A. in history from St. Olaf College and his Ph.D. in Balkan and Russian history from Stanford University.

Recently, Thomas led a Smithsonian group on a trip around Old World Europe. One of the most important and moving visits brought the group to Auschwitz, the former Nazi concentration camp, where one of the travelers had a chance to honor family members lost in the Holocaust. See his post from the visit below:

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No one is ever truly prepared for a visit to Auschwitz-Birkenau.  For a generation born in the years just before or after the Holocaust, this inexpressible horror of the twentieth century continues to haunt us even as we move fully into our new century with all its possibilities.  We left Warsaw early in the morning and drove through the lush, rich countryside of south central Poland, eventually catching our first glimpses of the Tatra mountains on Poland’s southern border.  It was a warm, sunny, infectiously beautiful, late spring day, and one could be forgiven for wishing for a lovely, leisurely picnic instead of contemplating a visit to a concentration camp.   We were all so very quiet that morning, deep in our own thoughts, reflecting perhaps on our memories of reading Wiesel, Levi, Borowski or the memoirs of some other Auschwitz survivor.   We were steeling ourselves for the shock and the tears even as we knew that nothing could really prepare us for this experience.  As we drove into Oświȩcim and caught sight of the first red barracks of Auschwitz, I reminded everyone that we came here to honor the memory of all those who suffered and perished in this nightmarish place.  The silence continued.

Auschwitz-Birkenau main track. (Photo by Sylvia Horsta.)

I don’t know if it’s easier to come to this place when the sun is shining and the weather warm and inviting.  I have seen it in pouring rain and in deep winter when the bitter damp cold freezes the tears on our faces, and we cannot imagine a single minute in this place without adequate clothing and food.  But the sun and the warmth could not distract us from the reality of what we were seeing.

Zorica and other Smithsonian travelers reading a psalm at Auschwitz. (Photo by Sylvia Horsta.)

Zorica, our fellow traveler, was as ready for this day as she could be.  All her life she had waited for this moment to honor all the members of her family who never returned from this earthly Hades.   The tour was almost finished when she gathered us together as a group next to the train tracks and the unloading ramp at Birkenau where Zorica’s relatives and millions of others experienced their last moments of life.  Embracing Zorica in a circle we together read a Psalm and listened as some of the group said Kaddish.   Finally after almost seventy years, Zorica’s relatives and, for the rest of us, these representatives of the millions, were honored and given their own short funeral.

Aushwitz-Birkenau track entrance. (Photo by Sylvia Horsta.)

Afterwards, everyone was silent for a very long time on the drive from Auschwitz to Cracow.  Silvija, our Tour Leader, played a CD of some meditative violin music for us.  As we approached Cracow, I spoke briefly and reminded everyone of Primo Levi’s admonition to us all.  He said that we must not leave Auschwitz despondent and without hope.  If we are to honor truly all those who died and suffered there, then it is our duty to live our lives as beautifully, honestly, and justly as we can.  I know that  these words were very cathartic for all of us.  We had made our pilgrimage and were humbled beyond words by the experience.  But we had indeed honored the millions and we accepted the admonition to live good and just lives.  A great burden had been lifted from Zorica’s shoulders, and together we were ready to continue our great adventure into Central Europe.

Virginia Bower is an expert on Chinese art and archaeology. Virginia did her graduate study at Princeton University, and is now an Adjunct Associate Professor at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia; she also teaches regularly at Rutgers University. 

Recently, Virginia led a group of Smithsonian travelers on a journey though Classic China & Tibet. This is her second of two posts from the trip. (See her previous post on Giant Pandas here.)

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Mutianyu Section of The Great Wall. (Photo by author.)

Originally we were supposed to visit the Mutianyu section of The Great Wall on Saturday, May 19th, but drizzle and the forecast of a heavier rain caused us to postpone the trip to Sunday, our last full day in Beijing. As we made our way out of the city and headed northeast toward the predominantly 16th century section of this famed structure, I glanced at the overcast sky and consoled myself with the knowledge gained after 14 visits to various sections of the Great Wall since 1980 that The Great Wall never fails to impress, even when enveloped in clouds or obscured by rain. However, our Tour Director, Mike Zhao, had predicted a bit of sun and perhaps even some blue sky for this visit to the Great Wall… and indeed, a few sunbeams appeared! Soon we were all admiring and walking on The Great Wall. And no, thank-you for asking, I never get tired of visiting it!

The Great Wall through the trees. (Photo by author.)

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Read more about Smithsonian Journeys’ Classic China and Tibet tour here.