Koupepia (Stuffed Grape Leaves)

I first tried stuffed grape leaves in college and I was not a fan. Cold, stuffed with bland rice filling and possessing a completely unappealing squishiness, they were something I just couldn't get into it. True, they were store-bought and my friend adored them, but I was turned off. I tried them once or twice more after that, but each successive experience was the same as the first. I was turned off; in my mind, for good.Then Seth and I went to Cyprus this past August and I became obsessed with sampling every meze dish I came across, including, wouldn't you know, stuffed grape leaves. I was actually excited to try them because one, they were fresh and seemed a bit more authentic coming from Kakopetria as opposed to some grocery store in Virginia; and two, I know tastes change and am always willing to test mine.

Turns out that willingness is a good thing (duh, why else would I post this recipe?) but I have to give credit to the food: koupepia (little cigars) in Cyprus are stuffed with meat - not squishy, overcooked rice! - seasoned lightly with herbs, and ours were served simmered in a simple tomato sauce. There was no hint of the bland mush I was familiar with; these things were good.

Tajin al Dajaj wil Couscous

The term "tajin" may bring to mind cylindrical stewing pots common throughout North Africa (with a similar vessel found in Cyprus) but here it simply means "stewed" or "braised" as in, Stewed Chicken with Couscous. And of course the cooking pot is actually spelled "tajine" or "tagine" but the idea is the same: meat (or vegetables) cooked slowly in order to break down connective tissue and make the chosen ingredient melt like butter. But enough of that, this recipe also has couscous, which I adore but don't use too often. Rice is the staple starch here in the Middle East (though bread is a close second) while couscous is the national food of Morocco, Tunisia and Algeria - a North African food. The particular recipe I am sharing today is from Egypt, that land which oddly straddles the fence between Africa and the Middle East. This is not the place for arguments on geographical and cultural identities (though I do find it intriguing that both of my cookbooks include Egypt at the expense of the rest of North Africa, though they are similarly Muslim and Arabicized, which practically shouts at the insistence of Egypt to be identified with the Middle East rather then (black) Africa) so suffice it to say that until I receive my requested Moroccan cookbook for Christmas there won't be much couscous on this site.

All right, I can't resist: I am one of those Africanists who believe that North Africa is part of Africa as a whole regardless of distinct cultural differences, but taking into account shared geography and history.

Turkish Delight

My sister and I went to see The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe when it came out in the movies in 2005 (because we love the Narnia books and the BBC series from back in the 80s.) During the scene in which Edmund demands Turkish Delight from the White Witch in return for betraying his siblings my sister (Amanda) turned to me asked,

"What is Turkish Delight, anyway?"
"I have no idea, though it must be good if it turns you against your family."

Then I moved to LA and near my apartment was near Sunland Produce, an awesome Armenian market with shockingly fresh, yet cheap, produce, as well as a variety of other goodies. They also sold Turkish Delight and, giggling at the irony, I bought some to take back to Maryland for a visit. My sisters (Katy and Amanda) and I gorged ourselves on the gummy goodness held within, though we were taken aback by the rose-flavored cubes; they just weren't doing it for us. Then I left California, and eventually the States, where I was forced to focus on other things, such as, "Oh my god, I hope this boda-boda doesn't kill me."

Chebeh Rubyan (Prawn Balls)

I have two Middle Eastern cookbooks, one which is like a handy informational brochure and the other more akin to a bible. Though the recipes in the bible sound amazing and usually have more robust flavor, about half are prefaced with "making this dish is a practice in both time and patience." Oof. So it stands that while I often read through my bible, I cook more from the brochure. But I cannot avoid recipes forever so yesterday I decided to make a Kuwaiti specialty, shrimp balls, in honor Eid celebrations.

It took some sacrifice on my part, as I had to renew the love/hate relationship with my Foop. I also feel uncomfortable sharing such a complicated recipe with you, but not everything can be boiled down to 30 minutes or less. While I lay awake listening to the Eid morning prayer through the minarets (it goes on for the entire hour before dawn and I find it impossible to ignore; Seth sleeps right through) I thought that these balls may not be as complicated as I thought while making them. You go through the motions once and subsequently it gets easier. Then I fully woke up and decided, no, it's damn complicated - especially if you serve it with Muhammar - and the time involved is suitable only for special occasions (in my opinion, anyway.)

With that said, you should make these. They are amazing and ridiculously flavorful. The sauce has a wonderful tang from the combination of dried limes and tamarind (yes, which I normally despise) and the simple onion filling makes the shrimp paste just pop, despite the fact that "shrimp paste" is probably one of the most unappetizing terms in the cooking lexicon. I was left with about 1 1/2 cups of paste so cooked up it for lunch today with some tomatoes, baharat and leftover rice and was still happily impressed by what Kuwaiti cuisine has to offer.

Just a couple of notes: the recipe calls for "ground rice" and I still am not sure what that is. I assume it isn't rice flour because that would have be listed instead and the recipe states that the balls will swell during cooking, which to me means that there are rice grains in the mixture. I precooked some basmati rice then pulsed it a few times in my Foop to make ground rice; I can only suggest you do the same. On saffron: I always state saffron as optional because I never use it; I refuse to spend money on what, to me, is a wasteful posh ingredient. Maybe it's because my taste buds were desensitized from my smoking days but I can't taste any distinctive flavor from saffron and don't care when certain dishes lack that yellow-orange hue. Of course, if you don't feel as strongly about the issue as me feel free to use saffron whenever it is mentioned.


Chebeh Rubyan
The Complete Middle East Cookbook

2lb uncooked prawns (shrimp)
1/4cup cilantro
1/2tsp ground turmeric
1/2 ground loomi (dried lime), optional
3/4cup ground rice
1tsp salt

Filling:
1 large onion, finely diced
2tbsp ghee or clarified butter
1tsp Baharat
1/2tsp ground loomi or grated rind of 1/2 lemon or lime

Tamarind Sauce:
piece of tamarind the size of a small egg
2cups warm water
1 small onion, finely diced
1tbsp ghee of clarified butter
1 large tomato, peeled and chopped
1tsp Baharat
1/4-1/2tsp hot chili pepper
salt
2tsp sugar

1. Shell and devein prawns, sicne and dry well. Mix prawns with cilantro and process to a paste in food processor.

2. Combine prawn mixture with turmeric, ground loomi (if available) and ground rice. Add salt and mix well with hand (I used a spoon) until thoroughly blended. Cover and refrigerate until required.

3. In a pan gently fry large onion in ghee until transparent, stir in baharat and loomi (or lemon/lime rind) and remove from heat. Keep aside.

4. Soak tamarind in 1 cup warm water for 10 minutes and rub with fingers. Pass through a sieve, pressing pulp through with back of a spoon. Reserve tamarind liquid. (You just made tamarind puree!)

5. In a large, wide-based port gently fry small onion in ghee until transparent. Add tamarind liquid, remaining water, tomato, spices, salt to taste and sugar. Cover and simmer gently for 15-20 minutes.

6. While the sauce is simmering, make chebeh. Take about a tablespoon of prawn paste and flatten in moistened palm. Place a teaspoon of onion filling in center and close up, shaping into a ball. (Mine ended up being larger than golf balls but smaller than tennis balls.) Keep hands moist during shaping. Repeat until ingredients are used. (I had about 1 1/2 cups prawn paste leftover.)

7. Drop completed chebeh into simmering sauce. Cover and simmer gently for 35-40 minutes. Chebeh will swell during cooking. Serve hot with Muhammar.

Muhammar (Sweet Rice)

1/4tsp saffron threads, optional
3 cardamom pods, cracked
2tbsp rose water
2cups basmati rice
6cups water
1tbsp salt
1/3-1/2cup granulated sugar or honey
1/4cup ghee or clarified butter

1. Soak saffron and cardamom in rose water while preparing rice.

2. Rinse rice until water runs clear.

3. Bring 6 cups water to the boil in a heavy pan, add salt and rice and stir occasionally until water returns to the boil. Leave uncovered and boil for 8 minutes. Drain in a colander.

4. Pour sugar or honey onto hot rice and mix through with a fork.

5. Heat ghee or butter in a pan in which rice was cooked and add sugared rice. Sprinkle rose water mixture on top. Make 3 holes in rice with the end of a wooden spoon.

6. Cover rim or pan with a paper towel and place lid on tightly. Cook rice over low heat for 20-25 minutes until tender.

Dajaj Biryani (Chicken Biryani)

Biryani - must be an Indian recipe, right? Hell no! This one comes from the UAE (United Arab Emirates) and is not the first Biryani recipe I have seen (whether Indian or Middle Eastern), but I am pretty sure it is the best biryani, period. Or at least it was the first time I made it. This time I went with chicken strips because Seth brought a bag of them home, but before I made them with moist chicken legs and thighs - definitely the way to go. I also reduce the amount of rice called for because, really, who needs 5 cups of rice? 3 1/2 normally works for us, but if you want more simply increase the amount of dry rice to 2 1/2 cups. The recipe also calls for some of those elusive dried limes so I guess I better tell you how to make them pretty soon. Other than that, what can I say?
Make it and enjoy what the Emirates have to offer.

Murag (Meat Stew)

I am cooking this right now and the smell wafting from the kitchen is fab-u-lous.

  . . .

Ok, finished cooking and the result is pretty good for a beef stew, though there is nothing that stands out about it. I doubled the Baharat to the 2 teaspoons I list below and included extra on the table to sprinkle on to taste. Nevertheless, as far as tender meat and green beans goodness goes, this is a winner.*

Murag
The Complete Middle East Cookbook 

3lb boneless stewing beef or lamb
1/4cup oil
2 large onions, finely chopped
2cups peeled, chopped tomatoes OR 1/4cup tomato paste
1cup water
1tsp sugar
2tsp Baharat (recipe below)
salt and pepper
One of the following: 1lb fresh green beans; 1lb okra (if using add 2 chopped cloves of garlic to onion); 2 cups shelled green peas; 1lb eggplant, cubed, salted 30 minuted and rinsed.


1. Trim meat and cut into 1 1/2inch squares. Heat half the oil in a heavy pan and brown meat over high heat, removing to a plate when browned (I had to do this in two batches.)

2. Reduce heat and add remaining oil with onion. Fry gently until transparent.

3. Add tomatoes or tomato paste, water (increase to 1 1/2 cups if using paste), sugar, baharat, and about 2 teaspoons salt and pepper to taste. Bring to the boil, reduce heat and return meat to pan. Cover and simmer for 45 minutes for lamb, 1 1/4 hours for beef.

4. Add prepared vegetable, cover and simmer for another hour or until meat is tender.

Baharat seasoning
1/3tsp black pepper
1/4tsp coriander
1/4tsp cinnamon
1/4tsp cloves
1/3tsp cumin
2tsp cardamom
1/4tsp nutmeg
1/2tsp paprika
1/4tsp dried limes (optional)

Mix and use whenever needed. Tastes great in lentil soup!

*- Sorry for not being too talkative but my brain is currently running on automatic!

Samak Mishwi (Oven-Barbecued Fish)

We didn't eat fish often when I was growing up. Chesapeake blue crabs and oysters, of course - I am a Maryland girl - but scaly finned fish, not so much. I love fish, as did my parents; it just was never part of the dinner repertoire. I think I remember my mom stating that she hated to clean fish; I understand how she feels. When I purchased the fish you see above I asked for the it to be cleaned but not de-scaled, for some reason thinking it necessary to keep the scales on. At home I looked at the recipe and saw that the scales needed to be removed. How hard can it be? I thought. Seth told me I should go outside. I told him that was completely unnecessary. Note: when someone has been fishing their entire life, listen to their advice. Apart from the indignity of being struck in my eyes about thirty times, I am still finding scales in the kitchen a month later. Those things fly everywhere.

Chicken Shawarma

You might look at this picture and think, "I thought she said chicken shwarma; what the hell is this?" And, for the most part, I would have to agree with you. When I think of shwarma, I see small eateries with meat roasting on an upright spit (similar to that used in gyro places), where the meat is sliced off in thin strips, then finely chopped with onion, tomato and lettuce before being wrapped up in flatbread to make a Middle Eastern snack that is part burrito, part salt lick. Yet, there is this one place nearby where Seth and I go to order "big platter" (the owners/cooks speak about 10 words of English and the 5 Arabic words in my lexicon don't help much*) and we are given a plate loaded with hummus, sliced vegetables, lettuce, flatbread and chicken that looks remarkably like this. Do they call it shwarma? I have no idea, but one of my Middle Eastern cookbooks does, so there it is.