Happy Thanksgiving! I was fortunate enough to celebrate this very important and very American holiday with

20 other Americans and every type of Thanksgiving food imaginable (including some atypical Thanksgiving foods such as haggis, courtesy of the Scots). Our feast was complete with canned cranberry sauce and pumpkin pies made with canned pumpkin, all thanks to Eddie's dad who visited that week. We even had the football game streaming on a computer. Not far off from Thanksgiving at home, discounting the fact that I was in Spain and the 20 Americans weren't family. Then again, those Americans were all loud, a lot of fun, and a little intoxicated... Perhaps not so far off after all.

Thursday after work, I headed down to Torre del Mar in Málaga- a coastal town reminiscent of the Jersey shore. Eddie's lucky enough to have a town house right on the beach... He'd better be prepared to see a lot of me in the Spring.

My dish was cauliflower with cheese sauce. Let me rephrase that; A mountain of cauliflower with cheese sauce. I'm certain the man

at the frutería and I grossly overestimated the amount of food I should have made. Then again, I think this was mainly due to the fact that of the 20 Americans, 20 brought a dish that could feed 20 people and we all had a taste of everything (well, we tried to). However, I'm not complaining. Everyone knows Thanksgiving leftovers are the best!

Well, maybe all besides cauliflower... I've been eating the damned stuff for the past week and only finished the last of it today. Hooray!

Friday I made it back to Granada just in time for... A second Thanksgiving feast! I wasn't sure

I'd be celebrating Thanksgiving in Spain one time, let alone twice! Another Thanksgiving and another TWO turkeys. In true American fashion, we overestimated the amount of food... Again. An entire turkey wasn't carved! I'm guessing that was one of those rare cases of too many Thanksgiving leftovers (sobres).

Gobble Gobble! Or should I say, "Apagalaluh!"-- Apaga la luz; say it fast with an Andalusian accent, and you sound like a turkey :)

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Can I just say that in order to write a blog- literally, to type the letters- means that my fingers have to be exposed to the frigid icebox that is now my apartment. In other words, my ten little dedos and I hope you appreciate our efforts.

Thursday night is quiz night (a.k.a. trivia) at Café Piaf, my new favorite tapas bar. Naturally, I went to the bar with a group of French girls. The only catch is- the questions are in French, and then in Spanish.

Let's just say, the French and Spanish don't know their American geography very well. Yet, somehow I ended up looking like the tonta (idiot). By a stroke of luck, the question was: What American city is the Pentagon building located? The answer: ARLINGTON, Virginia, of course!! My town! While everyone was so sure that the answer was Washington, DC- I knew the real answer and would take our team to victory. Only, it turned out that anyone living outside the United States (and some living in the US- cough, cough Michelle)- including the quiz judges- thinks the Pentagon is in Washington, DC. Oh, well. I still have my pride!

Another weekend, another baking experiment. This time, chocolate chip banana bread:

Michelle and Casey, two of my American friends in Granada, came to my piso for what turned out to be a baking and cooking fest.

Yes, Saturday was my first attempt (and relatively successful attempt at that) at making an authentic tortilla de patatas, also known as tortilla española. A very simple recipe- just potatoes, eggs and onions. The catch: you have to flip the tortilla with a plate back into the saltén (pan) to cook the other side. It may not have been the prettiest tortilla, but that's not what matters now, is it?

Stéphanie invited me to my second Moroccan dinner in Granada... Only this time it was a Moroccan feast. Stéph really does have the hookups around town when it comes to Moroccan friends and cuisine.

Stéph and I:

To put it lightly (and use a new vocabulary word), ¡había una barbaridad de comida! ("There

was a ton of food!"). In fact, I mistook the appetizer for the entire meal. Little did I know that lamb with rice, cous cous with vegetables, tea and nuts, and finally ice cream were awaiting us. I'm not sure if it is just Stéph's friends or all Moroccans, but they are especially generous.

The "appetizer:"

Omar and Mehdi with the second course:

Amazing cous cous:

Afterwards we gave our bellies a rest and played some games that required more than a few embarrassing performances from the losing teams, which I hate to admit was mainly my team. Yes, I was the only American in the room and yet somehow I could not name all of the "Friends" actors... And yet the Moroccan and British in the room could. My bad! In any event, my team found ourselves dancing to the "Las Ketchup" song (well known throughout Spain- do you know it?) as our castigo (punishment).

Our team (ironically named "The Winners"):

In reference to the title of this blog post, "La Jamsa," also known as the "Mano de Fátima" (Hamsa, the hand

of Fátima), is often given incorrect significance. The host of the dinner party, Omar, told us that "La Jamsa" is translated to "cinco" or "five" in English- a number that in Islam is connected to the image of an open hand. La Jamsa is believed to be a symbol of protection against the "evil eye" in many societies, but Omar told us that it simply represents "las cosas buenas" (the good things) that Islamic culture associates with an open hand: happiness, peace, etc.

I'd say I have a lot of those "cosas buenas" in my life right now.

Currently obsessed with: Breaking Bad (a television show on AMC). Currently listening to: Alexnder Ebert's Truth (from the show, surprise surprise).

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"Mari" is short for "María," and since every other woman here is called "María"-something (María José, María Carmen, María María María!), it's a term of endearment that practically any woman will respond to-- caution, use among friends.

Let's move onto a familiar topic... Food. I live in Spain where the fruit and vegetables are so fresh, the fish and seafood abundant (and aslo very fresh), and the variety of food is so different from my "norm." I live with people who know their stuff in the kitchen and are more than willing to teach me the ropes or share their comida with little inexperienced me. However, that inexperience is quickly fading. Here's a little insight into what's been on my Spanish menu recently:

- Dessert Pizza: Tani's (Rebeca's friend) creation-- Pie crust used for pizza dough with a combination of onions sautéed in red wine and sugar baked with cream (nata) and goat cheese on top. So easy, and so scrumptious.

- Potaje de lentejas: A lentil stew courtesy of Rebeca and her talent for soups. Correction- potajes (stews). She's going to teach me the recipe before Christmas because I know it's perfect for Dad.

- Pan de carne (Meatloaf): Alright, not a "Spanish" dish, but I made it for the apartment. A little taste of home.

- Ground beef & red wine reduction, cauliflower, and zucchini: Yesterday's lunch, and a Rebeca and Kate original. We knew we had ground beef (leftover from the meatloaf) and lots and lots of vegetables that were going to be podridos (bad) pretty soon. So, we threw the ground beef in a pan with carrots, peppers, onion and garlic and let it reduce in red wine. I battered and fried the zucchini in olive oil, but the cauliflower was by far my favorite. After cooking the cauliflower, Rebeca covered it in cream, small chunks of Iberian ham and- ingeniously, ground nutmeg.

- Now, for the pièce de résistance- a meal of mariscos: Clams, mussels, shrimp (with their heads), salmon, swordfish, shrimp salad... a meal for champions! Can't forget the wine:

From L to R: Giovanni (Rebeca's boyfriend), Rebeca, David and Antonio:

As the night wore on, our bellies filled with seafood, our glasses never empty, and listening to music ranging from classic flamenco to Axel Rose, we played a board-game (in Spanish) called Party & co. Trying to lip-read spanish phrases and act out or draw Spanish words was entertaining, to say the least. Naturally, I was on the winning team. Later, we moved onto a game played with dice called Mentiroso. If a player rolls a 9, the next player has to roll a higher number- if they don't, they lie (mentir) and hope the next player doesn't catch their bluff. If they do, you get an "M" and so on until you are a "Mentiroso." All in all, a great night with my Spanish family.

Next up (I hope): The renowned tortilla de patatas, a Spanish classic... And I'm told easy enough. The plate-pan-flip worries me a bit, I'll admit.

Listen to this: Shiny Soul, by Fuel Flamenco http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USf9maa8_ro&ob=av2e

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Well, the weather's a-changin', and it's time for jackets, scarves and... a brasero to come home to. Luckily, my piso has one. A brasero is a heater that is placed under a tall table. The long tablecloth over said table is used to cover your legs and trap in the heat from the brasero. At first I was skeptical, mainly because I wondered why in the heck there was such a tall table in my living room. I can never really reach my plate without sitting on a pillow. But as Autumn presses on, I have a newfound respect for the table and the brasero beneath it that warms my toes.

So, what else is new. This week I am on a mission to try the myriad of fruit that Granada has to offer... and believe me, there's a lot and it's all delicious. The apples are amazing. The figs, in season and to die for. Yesterday I tried a Caqui- which I now know is a persimmon, only a lot bigger and without any seeds. You really have to use a spoon, though, because Caquis are eaten when very, very soft.

Next up to try, and currently ripening in the fruit basket: a Chirimoya.

May I also add, people, that I learned how to carve an Iberian Ham. As I mentioned earlier, we have an entire leg in our kitchen that the roommates alternate on purchasing. Translation: I will soon find myself in a carnicería full of hanging ham legs trying to choose which one to bring home. Anyway, it's well worth it. The leg lasts about a month and tastes delicious, whether eaten in slices straight from the leg or planchado (cooked in the frying pan).

As this post, and many others, mainly centers around food I'll also say that Rebeca's mom and younger sister came to stay one night and we were all fed very well. Croquetas, pumpkin soup, fish that at first freaked me out because of the spine in the middle, and... dun dun dun: her mom made me try morcilla (BLOOD sausage). I hid it in a piece of bread and called it a day. Not my cup of tea, but I tried it. This, however, led to a conversation on how much they liked organs (the heart and all) and, among other freaky things, chicken blood ("¡que rico!"). Blurg!

I can't find a pumpkin to carve, but they do celebrate Halloween here. Just today, I gave a lesson on Halloween where they kids played Pictionary drawing different Halloween characters (actually, two had to sit out due to religious reasons). I have seen one calabasa de Halloween, but if bought will have to be carried about a mile home. I'm game.

New phrases:

"No tengo ni un chavo" -- "I'm broke"

"Estoy a dos velas" (**Use gesture: index and middle finger, moving from eyes to nose) -- Use when you are lacking in either money or love. "How's it going with your boyfriend" "Muy mal. Estoy a dos velas."

"Borracha como una cuba" -- Rough translation... "Wasted!" Don't ask how I learned this.

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Urgent News Update: My first night out with all Spaniards!

I successfully stayed up until 6am without getting sleepy AND had a great time with my roommate Rebeca and her friends. We went to a traditional (típico) bodega for some chilled glasses of vermut (wine, vermuth and lime) and jamón ibérico. Next, to a pub full of Spaniards... that's how I knew it was legit. None of those all-English-speaking pubs. Derick, you'd appreciate this- we had Fosters! In good company and good conversation (granted, I got lost in a few of those conversations), the hours passed by. Then onto Blondie, a discoteca that mainly played Indie Pop... pretty neat. Overall, a great night:

Discoteca Blondie

One of the things I love about having Spanish roommates is you get the inside scoop on the good spots in Granada. For instance, I don't think I would have ever found that pub. It was tucked away on a side street and basically underground. Example #2: The frutería I've been going to is actually overcharging me. Who knew, it seemed cheap to me. There's a tetería (teahouse) right down the street that Rebeca says is the best in town, and she would know. I went there with Rebeca and her friend Mari Carmen and ordered a batido. I wouldn't have known what they were, but now I know they're delicious. I guess the best description is a milkshake but with more milk.

My roommate Rebeca and I

Last night was also filled with English/Spanish lessons. I told them what a keg stand was, and they taught me the Spanish version of quarters. I also got a pretty extensive lesson on palabrotas (curse words) to use or not use at my leisure. Curious? Okay, I'll give you one: gilipollas. Basically translates to "asshole." Rebeca's last name is "Sola" (In English, "alone") which we make fun of her for. Only now that she knows that "Marsh" translates to ciénega in Spanish, she thinks my last name is worse.

Rebeca's friend Rubén is a huge fan of Indie music (Iron & Wine, Arcade Fire) and told me that Fleet Foxes is playing in Madrid November 25. One reason to make a trip up to the capital- that, and El Rey León (Broadway's The Lion King) is playing in Madrid up through March. That would be completely amazing.

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