I am currently in the grips of It’s What I Do: A Photographer’s Life of Love and War, the memoir by Lynsey Addario, a Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist whose images have given faraway readers a glimpse into the wars of Afghanistan and Iraq, genocide in Darfur and civil war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Libya.

She’s lived in Latin America, India, Turkey and the Middle East and reported from nearly every continent. She’s witnessed death and destruction, and seen people whose daily lives play out in the crosshairs of conflict. She’s been kidnapped, beaten and groped by men whose societies see women as mothers or prostitutes, and little else. 

All for the sake of capturing images Lynsey hopes will change perspectives on such events and serve as a call to action.  It’s a tall order that demands she live her life on the edge, often jeopardizing her own safety, and one that causes constant emotional distress to those who love her most. But she says it’s her calling. 

You can see why this would be one of those books that’s difficult to put down.

As I got deeper and deeper into Lynsey’s story, I was surprised how often she admitted to being shy or nervous. For a photographer who has lived all over the world and has become so well regarded for her work, it was unexpected. I kind of hoped one would make it at a certain point, as if, after a certain mile marker, we could avoid having to feel all those unpleasant feelings. 

When Lynsey first moved to Turkey, she ate only simit, those circular loaves of bread crusted with sesame seeds and sold in the streets for a few Turkish lira. In a place where she didn’t speak the language and knew few people, she didn’t dare attempt to order anything else. As recognizable as that lump that arises in your throat when near tears, her discomfort amid new surroundings was palpable.

In journalism school, I remember times when I was so nervous for my interviews that I forgot half of my questions and managed to capture a few blurry images at best. I used to think this was ridiculous and questioned my capabilities as a journalist. How could I feel this way when I knew this line of work was all about asking people about their opinions, decisions and lives?

“While covering war, there were days when I had boundless courage and there were days, like these in Libya, when I was terrified from the moment I woke up,” Lynsey wrote. It seems no matter the levels of success we reach, there still persists the push and the pull of courage and fear, confidence and insecurity, happiness and sadness. I’m doing my best to embrace it all.

And then we have our kitchen success and our kitchen flops. Perhaps inspired by Lynsey’s travels or by a recent trip to Mike Solomonov’s hummusiya Dizengoff in Miami, I am back into Middle Eastern food. I have taken to tahini, that key ingredient in hummus, in a big way and am playing around with other ways to incorporate it into my meals. It was a nice way to make roasted radishes a bit more interesting.

Roasted Radishes with Tahini

Grab 2-3 bunches of radishes for a side that will serve 4 people. Half and quarter the vegetables as necessary to make sure all pieces are about the same size. Rub with olive oil, salt, pepper and any other spices you would like to add or no more at all. Roast in a 375°F oven for about 45 minutes or until they soft to the touch and juicy when you take a bite. But don’t burn yourself!

Depending on which tahini you use, it will likely need to be thinned out with a little lemon juice and even some cold water, just a little at a time. You want the sauce to be dressing-like but also a little thick so it will coat the radishes.

Once radishes are finished, toss with the mellowed tahini and serve.