Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Lahm b-'Ajeen

Arabian Counterpart of Italian Pizza

لحم بعجين

It is what it literally means—‘meat with dough’. Well-loved carryout food in the Levant and Iraq, simple, practical and delicious. Equally ubiquitous in Turkey, where it is called lahmacun, which no doubt is a direct borrowing of the Arabic, etymologically and culinarily. 

Lahm b-'ajeen apparently had a long history in the Arab regions, and it seems to have first originated in the Levant. The earliest recipe I could lay my hands on occurs in 13th-century Aleppan cookbook Al-Wusla ila ‘l-Habeeb (الوصلة الى الحبيب في وصف الطيبات والطيب) written by the well-known Syrian historian Ibn Al-'Adeem (d. 1262). The recipe is just one line long, but it certainly points to our dish, "Meat is cut, spread on flattened discs of dough, and then put in the brick oven furn.” (p. 2:556)  

However, in Iraq this food seems to have been kept on the back burner for a long while. When I was still a kid in Baghdad, not many people knew of it. We used to get it by order from the neighborhood bakery owned by an Armenian, but his version was very basic. The topping consisted of just meat, onions, salt, and black pepper. By the seventies, though, popularity of this delicious bread picked up and many small bakeries specialized in making it were opened in the major cities of Iraq to meet the increasing demand. It comes out of their brick ovens sizzling hot, lusciously moist and tender, and dripping with the melted fat of meat. Delicious surely, but unfortunately too greasy.  

This food is too good to pass, and why should we. We can make it  ourselves, equally delicious but much healthier. It is indeed fun to make but definitely not a dish to whip in 30 minutes. But I assure you it would be time well invested.

Recipe for making lahm b-'ajeen:   

First we need to prepare the dough (the 'ajeen part):

2 tablespoons dry yeast
1 tablespoon sugar
½ cup warm water
9 cups (2¼ pounds) bread flour
1 tablespoon salt
½ cup oil
3 cups warm water

1. Dissolve yeast and sugar in ½ cup warm water, set aside for 5 minutes.

2. Put flour and salt in a big bowl. Make a well in the middle, and pour yeast mixture along with oil and water. With a wooden spoon, incorporate liquids into flour in a circular movement. With slightly oiled hands, knead dough for about 5 minutes. The final dough should be of medium consistency. Oil dough on both sides and set it aside, covered, in a warm draft-free place for 45 minutes or until well risen. 

Now to the meat part (lahm):
While waiting for the dough to rise, prepare the topping:

3 medium onions (about 2 cups), finely chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 heaping tablespoons tomato paste (one 6-ounce can)
1½ - 2 pounds ground lean meat (beef or lamb, or a mix of both)
¾ cup chopped parsley
2 medium tomatoes (about 1½ cups), finely chopped
1 tablespoon pomegranate syrup (may use lemon juice instead)
2 teaspoons baharat (spice mix, follow link for recipe)
2 teaspoons salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
½ teaspoon allspice
¼ teaspoon chili pepper, or to taste

Sauté onion in oil, about 5 minutes (just enough to soften it), and then stir in tomato paste until it emits a nice aroma, about a minute. Set aside until it cools down to room temperature. Then mix in the rest of the topping ingredients.     

Now, it's shape and bake time: 

1. Position one of the oven shelves at the lowest level if oven is electric, and put on it a pizza stone or an inverted baking sheet. If oven is gas, remove the lowest shelf, and place the pizza stone right on the oven floor. Position the second shelf at the highest level, and preheat oven 420°F.  

2. As soon as dough rises, punch it down and divide it into 20 pieces, which you shape into neat balls by tucking in the sides with slightly oiled hands. Place portions on a lightly-oiled surface..

3. Since the dough does not need to rise again, you can start shaping and baking right away. Lightly cover work surface and rolling pin with olive oil, and roll out a dough portion into a disc about 7 inches in diameter (or rectangle), about ⅛ inch thick. Place the flattened dough on a piece of parchment paper, a little bigger than the dough disc. Spread about ¼ cup  of the meat mix on it. It should cover the surface in a thin layer, leaving a slight border uncovered. Lightly brush uncovered border with olive oil. (If parchment paper is not available, use greased baking sheets).

4. Immediately, and with the help of a small bread peel (or a solid piece of cardboard or wood or anything similar). Slide the disc into the hot stone or the inverted baking sheet. Dough is not supposed to puff like pita bread, and it will take about 8 minutes to bake. You can bake 2 or 3 at a time depending on oven or pizza stone size. While this batch is baking, start working on the other batches. You might transfer half-baked ones to the upper shelf, and put some new ones on lower shelf to expedite the procedure.  


6. As soon as you take the baked ones out of the oven, stack them with the parchment paper, in a big paper bag, lined with a kitchen towel or paper napkins, and partially close the bag. Or use a large container (see photo to your right). The parchment paper will prevent the topping from sticking to the bottom of the piece above it.

Best when eaten hot right from the oven, but also good at room temperature. Any leftovers may be refrigerated or frozen, and warmed up in the oven. 

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Kubbat Timman كبّة تمّن 

aka, Kubbat Halab كبّة حلب 

Iraqi Rice-Balls, Stuffed and Fried

Elegant Counterpart of Sicilian Arancini

Crisp and golden bundles of delight:
Rice is boiled in a large amount of salted water, flavored with a bit of saffron, and cooked to perfection. Then it is drained and kneaded into dough, stuffed with spicy meat-mix, shaped, and fried to golden crispness. Yummy!

This is an Iraqi specialty, a delicacy usually reserved for festive treats and elegant presentations. Although the name kubbat Halab might link it to the Syrian city of Aleppo, to my knowledge, no other Arab country prepares it as we do. I once made it for friends from Aleppo, and they said they have never seen anything like it before.

The beginnings of today’s art of making the stuffed foods of kubba, of which this Iraqi specialty is just one kind, can be traced back to the Baghdadi medieval kitchens where cooks experimented with this sort of complex cooking technique, with great success. We know this from some of the recipes included in al-Baghdadi's cookbook كتاب الطبيخ written in Baghdad in 1226. In his collection of recipes, the much-loved meatballs, called kubeb كُبب (singular kubba كبّة), were given several playful twists by stuffing them with other ingredients, thus turning them into little balls of delightful surprises.

For instance, in a dish called Makhfiyya (the hidden), whole cooked egg-yolks were enclosed in spicy paste of ground meat, and shaped into balls. In Rutabiyya (meaning 'cooked with dates'), paste of ground meat was formed into date-like balls, stuffed with peeled almonds, and simmered in broth. When served, the dish was garnished with real dates filled with almonds, to further confuse the diners. In another dish called Bunduqiyya ('like hazelnuts'), paste of seasoned ground meat was shaped into small balls, as small as hazelnuts, filled with mashed cooked chickpeas, then simmered in broth.

Also included in al-Baghdadi’s cookbook was Naranjiyya (i.e. looking like naranj 'orange'). Meatballs were made as large as oranges, and then they were coated with egg-yolk and dipped into the stew-liquid several times until they acquired the color orange; which brings us to the now ubiquitous Sicilian arancini (singular arancino, from ‘arancia’ Italian for ‘little orange’), which are large stuffed balls of cooked rice, breaded and deep fried until they are golden brown, so that they look like oranges. 

Balls and cones of arancini
It is quite likely that the medieval Arab Naranjiyya might have been the inspiration behind this Sicilian specialty. Actually, I have seen it repeatedly mentioned that it was invented in the tenth-century during the time of the Arab rule, and that it was similar to foods based on recipes known in the Middle East during the Middle Ages (see for instance, Arancine, by Francesca Lombardo). Indeed, this might well have been the case as cultivation of rice, saffron and citrus fruits, among many other plants, was initiated by the Arabs when they ruled the southern parts of Spain and Italy. However, I have yet to find medieval recipes or more specific references to this kind of stuffed food.   


It is my assumption, though, that arancini and even the Iraqi Kubbat Halab might well have originally been the creations of the resourceful cooks who found a practical and delicious way for using cooked-rice leftovers, but evidently the Iraqi cooks took it notches up. In today's Italian cuisine, arancini is plain honest easy-to prepare food, stuffed with whatever is on hand; quite popular as comfort snack food.   

Kubbat Halab on the other hand is one of the most refined Iraqi stuffed dishes, which requires a certain level of expertise; shells meticulously shaped as thin as possible and exquisitely filled with meat stuffing, redolent with the aromas of allspice and baharat spices. 

Here is how to make kubbat Halab

Making dough for kubbat Halab might prove to be rather tricky at the beginning. I remember when I first started experimenting with it, the finished kubbas were soft, and took some odd shapes. To make successful kubbat Halab you need to watch for two things:

1. The best rice choice would be a variety which tends to be a little on the sticky side such as jasmine rice, but basmati rice will still work. Some people choose to add beaten egg to the dough as a binder, but this will soften the texture, and the kubba loses its characteristic crunchiness.

2. Let rice boil gently in a big amount of salted water, and watch it and test the grains for doneness. Undercook the grains and they will not bind into dough, overcook them and they will be a ruined mush.

First of all, prepare the filling:

1 ½ pounds lean ground meat
2 tablespoons oil
2 medium onions (about 9 oz), finely chopped

1½ teaspoons salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
½ teaspoon allspice
½ teaspoon baharat mix
¼ teaspoon chili pepper
¼ cup chopped parsley
¼ cup slivered and toasted almond
¼ cup currants or chopped raisins

Heat oil in a big skillet and cook ground meat, stirring occasionally, and breaking down any lumps with the back of a spoon. When moisture almost evaporates, add onion and stir until transparent, 10 to 15 minutes, total. Add the rest of the ingredients in the last five minutes of cooking, and fold gently. Set aside to cool off. 

Kubba stuffing ready to use
Now, prepare the rice dough:

2 cups (1 pound) rice, washed, soaked in cold water for 30 minutes, then drained
10 cups water
2 teaspoons salt
¼ teaspoon turmeric or saffron
½ teaspoon cinnamon or a small cinnamon stick
¼ cup cornstarch
Oil for frying (such as canola)

1. Bring water to a boil in a medium pot. Add the drained rice along with salt, saffron or turmeric, and cinnamon. Give the pot a good stir, and bring it back to a boil. Reduce heat to medium, and let the rice boil gently in the partially covered pot, gently stirring twice or thrice. The rice grains should be cooked in about 15 minutes. Start testing after the first 10 minutes of cooking. Take a few grains and eat them, they should be cooked but still intact, not chewy, and not mushy. Do not let rice overcook.   

2. Strain rice in a metal colander. Put the colander with the rice back into the pot and cover it with the lid, and set it aside until it is cool enough to handle.

3. Transfer rice to a big bowl, and discard the cinnamon stick if used. Sprinkle cornstarch on rice and knead with slightly moistened hands until mixture is combined into dough.  

4. Have a bowl of cold water nearby. Handling with slightly moistened hands, take a small amount of dough, size of a small lemon, and shape it as follows (like the American football or rugby ball): 

Hold the ball of dough in one hand and hollow it with the thumb of the other hand until you get an elongated oval shell about ¼ in. thick and 3 in. long, it does not have to be perfect. Fill and close the opening, and roll it gently between the palms to make it look like an egg with two pointed ends. Moisten your fingers whenever dough feels sticky. Put the finished ones on a big tray in one layer.

5. Fry the filled kubba in 1-inch deep hot oil, turning once, until golden all around, about 7 minutes per batch. Put the fried pieces in a large colander lined with white paper towels, and let them cool off a little before serving. Alternatively, you may spread the paper towels on a rack and put the fried kubbas in one layer to cool off. This way you prevent the kubba from getting soggy.

Serve with lots of salad and bread, or make into sandwiches with slices of salad vegetables, and pickles. Pickled mango (‘amba) with diced tomato is especially good with this dish (see my website for pickle suggestions).

(Makes 22-24 pieces) 

Kubbat Halab: A diamond in the rough, waiting to be discovered!  

When are we going to see such trailers serving the scrumptious Iraqi elegant version, kubbat Halab? 

A food trailer serving the Sicilian arancini

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Honoring Mother's 'Day', Sumerian Style:

And Breakfast of Makhlama for Mom

مخلمة بالبتيتة

In the third millennium BC, a Sumerian guy, whose name was Ludingirra, sends a letter to his Mom, who lives in Nippur, an ancient Sumerian city south of today's Baghdad. This ancient Sumerian record was written in cuneiform on a clay tablet. It was composed in the form of a poem. The following text is based on Samuel Kramer's History Begins at Sumer (pp. 333-35).     

Addressing the courier, Ludingirra says:

Royal Courier, ever on the road,
I would send you to Nippur, Deliver this message.
I have traveled a long way,
My mother is troubled, unable to sleep.
She, in whose chamber there is never any angry word,
Keeps asking all travelers after my welfare.
Put my letters of greeting into her hand.

And since the courier has not met his mother before, Ludingirra gives him five signs to identify her. Although admittedly none of these signs would be the equivalent of today's Driver's License ID for instance, they do certainly portray a loving image of an ideal mother. Here are some excerpts:  

A detail (Museum of fine Arts, Boston)
Her name is Shat-Ishtar,
A figure that is radiant,
My mother is a bright light of the horizon, a mountain deer,
The morning star shining bright,
An angel of alabaster, set on a lapis lazuli pedestal,
My mother is rain in its season, water for the prime seed,
A rich harvest.
A garden of plenty, full of delight,
A well-watered fir tree, adorned with fir cones,
Fruit of the New Year, the yield of the first month,
My mother is a feast, an offering full of rejoicing,
A New Year offering awesome to behold.
A dancing place made for much joy,
A lover, a loving heart, whose joy is inexhaustible.

The letter ends with:
"Ludingirra, your beloved son gives you greetings."


A limestone relief I first saw at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. It depicts a deportation scene of captive women from Babylonia. Defying the threatening stick of the enemy guards at the far right of the image, the mother dared stop to give her child a sip of water. A humanizing tender spot in the midst of cruelty.
Breakfast of Makhlama for Mom
مخلمة بالبتيتة
Iraqi Omelet

Makhlama is what is known in other Arab countries as 'ujja/ 'agga (and other variants)  and in the Western world as omelet. It is a dish with a long history. The extant medieval Arabic cookbooks include a generous number of omelet recipes, with and without meat. When made into a disc, they called it 'ujja mudawwara (عجة مدورة); and when scrambled it was called 'ujja mubahthara (عجة مبحثرة) or makhluta (مخلوطة). When the eggs were left on top, sunny side up, the omelet was called narjisiyya (نرجسية), i.e. looking like narcissus flower, with its colors of yellow, white and green (of herbs used). According to a recipe, the yolk was poked with knife, and lightly mixed with the white to give it a marbled look.
Here is a very interesting recipe from Ibn Sayyar al-Warraq's 10th-century cookbook كتاب الطبيخ (Annals of the Caliphs' Kitchens, my English translation, Chapter 73):

Iraqi leeks (Kurrath), photo: Kok Robin, Rotterdam
Slice the meat and chop it to pieces, but do not make them too small. Use some suet with it, too. Cook the meat with the green stalks of fresh onion and table leeks (kurrath, somewhat similar to garlic chives), leave them whole. Spread the stalks on top of the meat. Season the meat with salt, olive oil,  a bruised piece of cassia and another of galangal. Add as well coriander seeds and a small amount of cumin if wished.

Break eggs on the [spread] meat, enough to cover the whole face of the frying pan, which by the way, should be of stone. Let the eggs look like eyes.

Put the pan as it is on a reed tray and insert a sprig of rue in the midst of the yolk of each egg. Drape the pan with a big thin sheet of bread (lavash bread, markouk) making a hole in the middle as big as the circumference of the pan. This is to hide the blackness of the outside of the pan when it is presented at the table.

Rue plant 

(A note on rue: Despite its unpleasant taste and smell, this herb was essential in medieval dishes as garnish because they believed that it had the power to combat flatulence and that chewing it after eating onion and garlic helped remove the unpleasant breath they cause. But they had it in extreme moderation.    

Today in Iraq we still cook this egg dish pretty much the same way, with and without meat. It makes a very convenient side dish or a sandwich for brunch, light supper, or a picnic lunch. The recipe I choose here is the vegetarian version with cubed potatoes and herbs. The version with spinach is equally tasty (recipe in my Delights from the Garden of Eden, p. 192).      
The recipe for Iraqi Omelet with Potatoes and Herbs is available in my website.

So here is to all mothers, past, present, and future!

Friday, April 18, 2014

Churek, Iraqi Yeast Pastry, 

and Spring Festivals of Ancient Times 

Impressively large, delicately sweet and aromatic, light and delicious. Lovely with tea or coffee.   

Iraqi Churek is most traditionally shaped like a wheel, about 12 inch across with a cross-like double axis; but it is also made into smaller flattish oval-shaped buns with no holes in them, stuffed with small amounts of dates or cheese and parsley.

Churek, along with the dry dunking cookies ka'ak كعك and bakhsam بخصم, are usually purchased from traditional specialized bakeries where sometimes churek can be seen hung on the wall on long nails for display. The oldest and most famous churek and ka'ak bakery is Ka'ak il-Seyyid كعك السيد, located on the main street of Baghdad, Shari' al-Rasheed. It was a family-run business, which started in 1906.            

Old photo of the the famous bakery Ka'ak il-Seyyid
In Iraq today churek is not particularly associated with any festivities, religious or otherwise. It is consumed year round, usually with afternoon tea. But churek is also known in other countries, where it is traditionally associated with Easter. In Greece and Cyprus, for instance, it is known as tsoureki, but it is shaped into braids. The Armenian variant is choreg and the Turkish is çöregi. Interestingly, its counterpart in traditional Eastern European Easter baking is the kulich/kolach. The Bulgarians, for instance, call it kolach, but they more traditionally shape it like a ring or a wheel, which is more like our chureck without the cross. The name is claimed to be of Slavic origin, closely connected with the bread’s round shape --kolo means ‘circle’.

Now, the Jewish challah (variants: chalah, hallah, cholla) is said to have affinities with kulich. For the Sabbath, this yeast bread is usually made braided. However, for Rosh Hashana (Jewish New Year), it is made round, to symbolize the yearly cycle and the wheel of time, which, etymologically, is in perfect agreement with one of the possible meanings of challah, Which is 'round'. 

It seems to me, therefore, that the etymological key to churek is its shape -- round. Going back to medieval Islam, jarq was a kind of bread shaped into rings. The name was undoubtedly the Arabized form of the Persian jarg ‘circle,’ from which charka ‘wheel’ was derived (today in Iraq, charikh is 'wheel').

Ultimately, however, this pastry with all these etymological variants associated with it may be traced back to the ancient Mesopotamian New Year festivities of the Akkadian mythical goddess Ishtar (Sumerian Inana ‘Lady of Heaven’).

Goddess Ishtar /Inana, with her symbol, star disc, in the middle

She was the most important goddess, daughter of the moon god Sin, and sister of the sun god Shamash. She was goddess of love, war, sexuality, and fertility in humankind. Interestingly, she was also described as goddess of the grains, which explains why women kneaded dough to make cakes to her. Her planet was Venus, she was called the Morning and Evening star, and her name was often strongly associated with the moon. Besides, due to her journey to the underworld to bring back her shepherd-husband Dumuzi (biblical Tammuz), she was also responsible for the mysteries of death and rebirth.

Ishtar's spring festivals celebrated the return of life, announced by the first New Moon of the season, around the end of March and beginning of April. In celebration of the goddess Ishtar and the New Year, special pastries were baked as offerings to her. Of these temple pastries, we are fortunate to have specific descriptions of round pastries called qullupu. The name is suggestive of their shape -- round, which used to symbolize Ishtar and her associations with the moon, as well as the circle and the wheel, which signified the cycle of the year and renewal of life. The term was derived from the Semitic roots kll and kly meaning ‘to complete’, and kull, ‘whole.’

Thus, we can clearly see affinities -- in etymology and shape -- between the ancient Mesopotamian qullupu pastries and the modern East European pastries kulich/kolach/challah and their counterpart tsoureki/choreg/çöregi, and the Iraqi chureck.

Ishtar’s fame spread far and wide. She had her Phoenician, Syrian, and Canaanite counterparts, and consequently most of the rituals and ceremonies involved in worshipping her were adopted and adapted, one way or another, in most parts of the ancient Old World. In the Bible, Ishtar was called Ashtoreth, and it is conjectured that the name of Esther, heroine of the Book of Esther, is a Hebrew rendition of a form of Ishtar.

Likewise, the name of the Christian feast ‘Easter’ is ultimately associated with the goddess Ishtar. Today, Easter, falling on the first Sunday after the first full moon following March 20 celebrates the resurrection of Christ, just as Ishtar’s festivals, falling on the first evening of the first crescent moon following the Spring Equinox, marked the New Year by commemorating the resurrection of the god Dumuzi, Ishtar’s husband.

It has also been suggested that the crucifixion cross symbol in the ‘bouns’ (buns) of the ancient Saxon Feast of Eostre -- origin of the modern British hot cross buns -- harkens back to the ancient Mesopotamian cross, believed to symbolize the sun or the four quarters of the moon, one of Ishtar’s symbols. 

I have a very good detailed recipe for making churek in my Delights from the Garden of Eden, (pp. 107-8). Or follow this link for one of my reader's adaptation of my original recipe.
The traditional shape of the churek with four holes has also inspired the romantic name shibbach il-habyib (lovers' window).

Whether a 'steering wheel' or a 'lovers' window' they all end up being devoured as quickly as you make them. But since my recipe yields four large ones, I usually keep some in plastic bags in the refrigerator for 3 or 4 days, and heat them up as needed, and freeze a couple for later. Just let them cool down completely, stuff them carefully in large plastic bags and freeze them. Next time you need to serve them, take them out of the freezer about an hour ahead of time, and then heat them up in the oven, medium heat, for 5 minutes or so. They will taste as if you've just baked them. 

Monday, April 7, 2014

Lent Dishes

From the Caliphs' Kitchens to Yours

Muzawwarat Recipes from Medieval Baghdad

المزوّرات: وصفات صيامية من بغداد الرشيد

Pureed Fava Beans Dip, Medieval Style
باقلا خضراء مهروسة

Gorgeous medieval Baghdadi dip that will put even hummus to shame.

It is no secret that Arab cuisine glorifies meat. No meal is rendered complete without it, even the host's hospitality is gauged by the amount of meat served. This has been the case all along, particularly in pre-modern times when vegetarian dishes were not considered real food. In fact, in medieval times a meat-less dish is called muzawwara (counterfeit) and sometimes kadhdhaba (false). Such dishes were usually offered before the main meat-dish. But they also proved quite handy when someone was sick, as they were believed to be easier to digest. As such, they were tolerated but not sought after. Medieval books preserved for us verses written in frustration by a sick poet who was ordered by his physician to stick to a vegetarian diet:

How can muzawwara my nourishment be?
Eating muzawwara is a falsity!
Vinegar and the trifling vegetable dishes are not for me.
Let the doctor get out of my way!
Say in doctors and medicine faith has gone astray.
Give me! Where is kebab? Where are the fried dishes?
The succulent roasts and the spiced meat? Bring them on! 


But most of all, the meatless dishes were in demand among Christians fasting during Lent, and the extant medieval Arab cookbooks do include a good number of them, the most interesting of which may be located in 10th-century cookbook by Ibn Sayyar al-Warraq Kitab al-Tabeekh (كتاب الطبيخ). It dedicates the whole of chapter 46 to such dishes. It is given the title ما يأكل النصارى من الطعام المزور في الصيام (Counterfeit Dishes which Christians Eat during Lent). All made with chard, fava beans, beans, gourd, truffles, purslane, and the like. Some recipes show how to make shrimp and small fish relishes without shrimp and fish, how to make milk with coconut, omelet without eggs, harisa (rice porridge) with leeks instead of meat, or making stews thickened and flavored with ground sesame and almonds instead of meat.

Pureed Fava Beans Dip, Medieval Style
باقلا خضراء مهروسة

Here is a recipe I adapted from Ibn Sayyar al-Warraq's tenth-century cookbook (see my English translation Annals of the Caliphs' Kitchens, Chapter 45, and Delights from the Garden of Eden, p. 132):

You can prepare this dip year round using frozen green fava beans, available at Middle Eastern stores, but also at major super markets (look for it in the Goya frozen vegetables section).

2 cups (12 oz) fresh or frozen fava beans
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
½ teaspoon crushed coriander seeds
½ cup, finely chopped cilantro 

2 garlic cloves, grated
½ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon ground cumin
¼ cup lemon juice
½ cup (2 oz) ground pistachio

For garnish: olive oil, olives, and basil or parsley 

1. Put fava beans in a medium pot and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil, then lower heat to medium, and let boil gently for about 15 minutes, or until tender. Drain beans and reserve some of the liquid, in case you need it. When beans are cool enough to handle, peel and mash them with a fork. 

2. Sauté onion in oil until it starts to brown. Add coriander and cilantro, and stir briefly. Set aside 2 tablespoons of it for garnish, add the rest to the mashed beans along with garlic, salt, pepper, cumin, lemon juice, and ground pistachio. If mixture looks dry, add a little of the drained liquid in which beans were cooked or some extra lemon juice, to taste.

3. Spread mixture in a shallow bowl, and garnish with the browned onion, olive oil, olives, and basil or parsley.  Serve with warm bread.

 Makes 4 servings   

Halawa Dihiniyya: Iraqi-Style Fudge

حلاوة دهينية

Delicious dessert!
So steeped in scrumptiousness and history

Also goes by the names dihniyya and dihina, all derived from the name of the clarified butter (dihin hurr) traditionally used in making it, which gives it its characteristic enticing aroma. Nobody makes it at home. You can find it wherever traditional sweets are sold, but, without dispute, the best is purchased from the confectioners in the bazaars adjoining the Shiite holy shrine in Najaf, south of Baghdad, which explains why it is sometimes referred to as halawa Najafiyya. Indeed, visitors from outside Najaf are always expected to bring back with them boxfuls of it for family and friends.

Its ingredients are simple and basic, mainly flour, sugar, date syrup or honey, and clarified butter (dihin hurr), cooked in two stages, first on the stove, and then finished in the oven.

 From extant recipes going back to the eighth century- the time of the Abbasid rule - we know that similar desserts were made, albeit named differently. Back then they were called khabees (خبيص) and faludhaj (فالوذج). [see for instance chapters 93 and 94, in my English translation of Ibn Sayyar al-Warraq's cookbook, Annals of the Caliphis' Kichens]. I have even found a recipe in 15th-century cookbook Kitab al-Tibakha (كتاب الطباخة) by the famous historian Ibn al-Mubarrid of Damascus. Interestingly, he even called it halwa duhniyya (حلوى دهنية). The 19th-century Lebanese cookbook Kitab Tadhkirat al-Khawateen wa Ustadh al-Tabbakheen (كتاب تذكرة الخواتين وأستاذ الطبّاخين), contains a recipe for khabees made with date syrup/sugar, p. 120.  So this dessert, even in name, has certainly been around for many centuries. One difference, though, prior to the 20th century no oven was involved in making it, just the stove, and while the neighboring countries abandoned it, the tradition of making it continued in Iraq.  

Here is how to make it (Makes about 15 generous squares):
(Recipe adapted from

1 cup milk
1 cup fat (I use 1/2 cup butter and 1/2 cup canola oil)
2 cups sugar
2 tablespoons date syrup (may be substituted with honey)
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
1 1/2 cups unsweetened shredded coconut
1 cup walnut halves

Preheat oven to 340 degrees F.

1. Put milk, fat, sugar and date syrup (or honey) in a small heavy pot. Stir and let mix boil until bubbly over medium heat (about 10 minutes). Then take the pot away from heat and right away start adding flour gradually, using electric mixer, like you do with cakes. Mix in cardamom.

2. Grease a 12x7x2 -inch pan (or approximate size), and spread the bottom with half of the coconut. Scatter the walnut halves all over it. Then, pour the batter, and cover its surface with the rest of the coconut.

3. Put the pan on the middle shelf, drape it loosely with a piece of aluminum foil, and let bake slowly for 40 to 45 minutes.

4. Take it out of the oven, and let it cool down completely on a cooling rack. Cut it into 15 squares and serve. Store the leftovers in a plastic container and keep in refrigerator, where it will stay good to eat for several weeks (if you can resist the temptation).


Indulge responsibly!

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Cauliflower is in! Kale is So Last Year!

قرنابيط مقلي 

Fried Breaded Cauliflower
Qirnabeet Maqli

I was thrilled to read the other day the Boston Globe article "Goodbye kale. Hello cauliflower." Admittedly kale rarely made it to my dishes but cauliflower, always has been a favorite. So here we go:

It has always been difficult to get people excited about cauliflower. We know it was cooked in the medieval Islamic world. Medieval Arabic books on cooking and botany do  mention it. It was called qunnabeet قنابيط and the florets were called zahr زهر 'flowers' and bayd بيض 'eggs', and was considered a type of cultivated cabbage كرنب بستاني). But it did not seem to have been quite popular. Their physicians had a low opinion of it. They thought it generated bad blood and that it caused rumbling stomach noises.  To avoid its harms the recommendation was to boil it twice with changes of water to get rid of the smell. They also recommended cooking it with fat meat and chicken, spiced with cumin, cilantro, and pepper, along with oil and salt.

Cooked the right way, medieval Arab physicians recommended it for cold related illnesses. Its stew was said to be good for coughs. They also believed that having the vegetable before drinking alcohol slowed intoxication. It also helped relieve hangover symptoms.

Medieval illustration of cauliflower, Italy
 And yes, the major culprit must have been the odor it emits when boiled. If you want to have your cauliflower and eat it, never boil it when you are expecting guests for dinner or when there are people around the house who are not forgiving enough. Boil it or steam it, and immediately drain it and get rid of the liquid, after that you will be safe to use it however you like.

In Iraq it is typically a winter vegetable, and we usually fry it breaded or cook it as delicious delicate stew. I prefer to prepare it with the small meatballs we call ras il-'asfoor راس العصفور 'sparrow's head', as you see in this photo based on a recipe in my Delights from the Garden of Eden, p. 220.

Fried Breaded Cauliflower
Qirnabeet Maqli

For a snack or a side-dish, I love to prepare it breaded and fried, but you can certainly broil it to avoid the frying. Just brush or spray the pieces with oil and let them broil, turning once to cook both sides. The egg-and-crumb coating makes it deliciously crispy from the outside, leaving the inside soft and succulent. It almost melts in the mouth. 

Breaded cauliflower with red-pepper jelly and sprigs of rishshaad (garden cress/pepper grass)

Here is how to make it (about 6 servings): 

1 medium head of cauliflower, broken into florets
2 eggs, beaten
Bread crumbs seasoned with salt, chili powder, ground ginger, and black pepper (¼ teaspoon of each for 1 cup breadcrumbs)

Oil for frying

1. Cook cauliflower in salted water, or steam it,  until just done, avoid overcooking. Drain it and let it cool off. 

2. Dip the florets in beaten eggs first, and then coat them with breadcrumbs.

3. Fry in 2 inch-deep hot oil until golden brown, turning once to allow to brown on all sides, a few minutes. Drain on a white paper towel put on a colander or a rack to prevent pieces from getting soggy.

Serve hot as a snack or with meat dishes.

Monday, December 16, 2013


Edible Greetings: Giant Sesame Cookies

برازق بالسمسم

How about making greeting cards, rose-scented and thoroughly delicious?

I always had fond memories of the giant sesame cookies I used to love when I was in my homeland Iraq. After many attempts I finally got the right texture of the cookie as I remember it. Then, the idea of using them as edible ‘greeting cards’ hit me, inspired by their huge size. The kids just loved them. I would make the ‘cards’ and they do the greetings. And the recipients of these edible cards, our friends, could not be any happier. Unfortunately, they are so tempting, that there is very little chance for them to stay intact longer than the time it takes to read them. Nevertheless, enjoy!

(Makes 20 large cookies)             

½ cup butter, and ½ cup canola oil
1½ cups granulated sugar
2 large eggs
2 tablespoons milk
1 teaspoon each of vanilla, ground cardamom, and ground fennel seeds

4½ cups all-purpose flour
2 rounded teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt

½ cup coarsely ground pistachio or walnuts
¾ cup honey, heated
¾ cup sesame seeds

For glaze (enough for 10 cookies): 1 cup sifted powdered sugar
1 teaspoon rose water
About 4 tablespoons milk

Preheat oven 400°F

1. With a mixer, beat together butter, oil, sugar, eggs, milk, vanilla, cardamom, and aniseed, about 2 minutes.

2. In a separate bowl, mix flour, baking powder, and salt, and add them to the creamed mix all at once. With a wooden spoon, stir them in a circular movement until well incorporated. Then knead lightly and briefly until the mixture gets together and forms into a ball.

3. Divide dough into 20 golf-ball size pieces.

4. Put nuts, honey, and sesame seeds in three small separate bowls (heating honey will make brushing it on the cookies much easier).

5. While holding a dough-ball, dip it in nuts first allowing its bottom to pick up as much nuts as possible. Then put it on a cookie sheet (no need to grease it). Flatten it with the fingers to ¼ inch thickness, shaping it into a disc about 4½ inches wide (tip: I use the hamburger ring-mold as a guide to make an evenly-shaped round). If wished, crimp edges by pinching with thumb and index finger. Brush the disc with honey, and sprinkle it generously with sesame seeds. Repeat with the rest of pieces. Leave space between them to allow for expansion. You might need 2 to 3 cookie sheets.

6. Bake the first batch in the middle of the preheated oven about 10 minutes, then take it up to the top rack, and put the second batch on the middle rack. In about 5 minutes, check on the top rack. The cookies are done when they nicely brown. Repeat with the other batches.   

7. With a thin pancake turner, carefully transfer the cookies to a cooling rack. Let them cool completely.

8. To glaze the cookies, mix powdered sugar, rose water, and enough milk to form a glaze of spreading consistency. Pour it on the cookies, and set aside until set. Using melted chocolate, decorate the surface with greetings or messages or whatever you fancy.