Tags: #Campin, #DeKluis, #GirlScouts, #Homemade, #OhDahlin, #Smores, #Stories, #Tex-Mex, #Tortillas
Campin’
Trees as thin and packed as matchsticks line the one-lane gravel road. Shafts of silver light pierce the forest. The GPS arrow hovers above a green blob on the map, and the indicator on the dash says “offroad”. A crooked tiny sign points to the left and our small caravan follows. The rocks and potholes challenge my Skoda sedan, but determined, it climbs toward the invisible destination – De Kluis, (Dutch for “The Safe”). A comforting name for a campsite. “Places in Belgium are hard to find, period,” my husband admitted a week earlier, “I can’t imagine trying to find
Homemade Tortillas
“Oh my, these tortillas are fantastic – man, I miss good, flour tortillas so much!” and I gobble another one. One of Nikki’s cousins eyes me suspiciously. He’s 13 and in that curious and not-too-cool-to-talk-to-adults-phase. “Why don’t you just go to your local grocery store and buy them?” he asks, in between mouthfuls of his own. “Jacob, I live in Belgium, not San Antonio. You can’t get homemade tortillas in Belgium, okay?” I explain. He blinks, then frowns. “Yeah, I guess not. That sucks,” he deadpans. “Yeah, it really does,” I tell him. I decided then and there that
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