Sparrows' Heads in 

Pomegranate-Walnut Sauce

Rummaniyya b'ras il-'Asfour

رمانية براس العصفور

Typical Iraqi spicy and aromatic small meatballs called ras il-'asfour (sparrows' heads), simmered in delectable pomegranate sauce.

In Iraq and Iran today similar dishes are more generally known by the Iranian name fasanjoun (فسنجون) and fasanjaan (فسنجان). The earliest record of a dish by this name is found in 19th-century court chef Mīrzā ʿAlī-Akbar Khan Āšpazbāšī’s Persian cookbook Sofra-ye aṭʿema, where ten varieties of what was called fasūjan are given (see Encyclopedia Iranica).

The dish is claimed to be ancient in origin going back to the era of the Persian Empire, but this is still unsupported by evidence. It is also still unknown how it acquired its name. However, it seems to me that it might have been associated with a Persian city in the mountainous central region. Its name is Fesenjan (فسنجان), mentioned in several medieval documents, such as Mu'jam al-Buldan (معجم البلدان) by 12th-century geographer Yaqut al-Hamawi (1977 ed., vol. 4, p. 266)                                       

Names aside, the dish itself -- meat of some sort simmered in sweet and sour pomegranate sauce and thickened with crushed nuts -- was a well-established way of cooking in the medieval Muslim world. It was known as rummaniyya, after the fruit rumman (pomegranate), and we are fortunate to have a variety of recipes for this dish, included in the extant medieval Arabic cookbooks from Baghdad and Egypt.

Here is a recipe I found in one of the copies of al-Baghdadi's 13th-century Kitab al-Tabeekh (British Library Manuscript, fol. 16r, see image below, this same recipe is also featured in the anonymous 14th-century cookbook Kanz al-Fawa'id, recipe no. 10 in my English translation Treasure Trove of Benefits and Variety at the Table):

Rummāniyya Mukhaththara (thickened pomegranate stew):

Cut pieces of meat are added to the pot with water. When the pot comes to a boil, the scum is removed, and cassia, mastic, ginger, and some sesame oil (shayraj) are thrown into the pot. Meatballs of pounded meat, made as small as hazelnuts, are added as well. Use a small amount of liquid so that when it is all done nothing remains but a little bit of a nice rich sauce.

Next, sour pomegranate juice, which has been balanced with rose petal jam made with sugar, is added to the pot along with some mint leaves. Pistachios are pounded to thicken the sauce, and a bit of saffron is added for color. The pot is sprinkled with a small amount of rosewater before it is removed from the fire.

The small meatballs used in the recipe above were commonly known as bunduqiyyat (i.e. small and rounded like hazelnuts). It is interesting to see how these small medieval meatballs found their way westwards to Spain and later to Mexico and South America, where they retained their original name-- Spanish albondiga. In the Middle East today, however, they are generally known as kufta/kefta/kafta, and in Iraq, we call them sparrows' heads (ras il-'asfour). Interesting how things might change and yet do not change!

Here is a modernized version of the dish, I only use meatballs in making it, and add the cut onion:    

RUMMANIYYA MUKHATHTHARA

(Based on the 13^th-century Baghdadi cookbook Kitāb al-Ṭabīkh)

Makes 6-8 servings

¼ cup sesame oil (or canola)

1 onion, medium, diced

½ teaspoon cinnamon

¼ teaspoon crushed mastic

½ teaspoon ginger

1 teaspoon salt

 For the meatballs (bunduqiyyāt):

1 pound ground lean meat

1 medium onion, coarsely chopped

½ cup chopped cilantro

1 teaspoon crushed coriander

½ teaspoon cumin

1 tablespoon murrī (may use soy sauce)

½ teaspoon black pepper

½ teaspoon cinnamon

 For the pomegranate sauce:

2 tablespoons pomegranate syrup diluted in ¼ cup water

¼ cup rose petal jam

2 fresh mint sprigs

½ cup ground pistachios

A pinch of saffron

Rosewater, for sprinkling

………………………………

1. Fry the onion in oil until transparent, and stir in rest of the spices and herbs. Add 2 cups hot water and let it boil.

2. Prepare the meatballs: In a food processor, put the meatball ingredients and grind the mix into a paste. Form into small balls (like hazelnuts buduq, the amount will make about 45 meatballs). Add the meatballs to the cooking liquid and carefully stir the pot. Let them cook gently until done and only a small amount of the liquid is left.

3. Prepare the pomegranate sauce by mixing all its ingredients. Add it to the pot and let it simmer until the sauce nicely thickens.

4. Sprinkle the top of the pot with a small amount of rosewater and serve it hot with bread or rice.

..............................................................................................

Rummaniyya, in one of its medieval versions, survived in the Levantine cuisine, especially in Palestine, cooked with eggplant, instead of nuts, thickened with a bit of tahini.

Here is my recipe: (Makes 4 servings)

(Winner of the Guardian's Readers' Recipe Swap: Meatballs)

  

For the sparrows' heads (meatballs):

8 ounces of ground lean meat
1 small onion, grated
3 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons finely chopped parsley
¾ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
½ teaspoon crushed coriander seeds
¼ teaspoon each, allspice, ginger powder, curry powder, chili powder
For the sauce:
2 tablespoons oil
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped
½ teaspoon turmeric
1 cup toasted walnuts, pulverized in a food processor until oily
3 cups water
¼ cup pomegranate molasses
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon crushed cardamom
¼ teaspoon black pepper
½ teaspoon chili powder

12 ounces diced potatoes, lightly browned in some oil or brushed with oil and baked or broiled

1. To make meatballs: Combine all the meatball ingredients and knead lightly. With wet fingers, form it into small balls (as small as sparrows' heads). Shallow-fry them, or arrange them in one layer on a greased baking sheet, and broil or bake them in a preheated oven at 400°F. Turn pieces to brown on all sides, about 10 minutes. Set aside. 

2. In a medium pot, fry the onion in oil until transparent, about 5 minutes. Add turmeric and pulverized walnuts and stir for about a minute. Add the meatballs, as well as the rest of the sauce ingredients. Stir the pot gently, bring it to a quick boil, and then reduce heat, and let it simmer gently for about 30 minutes, or until the sauce is nicely thickened.

3. Ladle it into a deepish plate and garnish with chopped parsley and pomegranate seeds when in season; otherwise, chopped red pepper will be equally nice.

Scrumptious served with white rice.

Honoring Mother's 'Day', Sumerian Style:

And Breakfast of Makhlama for Mom

مخلمة بالبتيتة

In the third millennium BC, a Sumerian young man, whose name was Ludingirra, sent 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 had not met his mother before, Ludingirra gave 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!
Enjoy!