I'm back sitting in my special La Jolla cafe overlooking the ocean sipping Turkish espresso. But today is different; today I discovered this cafe sells not only rolls of baklava, but homemade labnah. My mind flew to early mornings in the Baqa'a camp health clinic when I'd duck into a back pantry with the doctors and talk about the new day over a bowl of labnah. As we'd dip our warm pieces of bread into the creamy yogurt and olive oil, we'd discuss Jordanian politics, the reason why waterborne diseases were so prevalent among the kids, and what to do with the cranky old woman in the hallway. Labnah was the beginning of every day there and an edible symbol for a moment of quiet amongst the chaotic whirlwind pervading that little understaffed clinic. Even now, back home in San Diego, rediscovering it in this little urban cafe soothed my mind and I find myself craving it almost desperately. I'm going to see if I can buy it directly from the cafe....something the barista found unusual, but that's okay. I want to start my days with some fruit, piece of warm bread and a dollop of Jordanian nostalgia.