Lamb

This is a basic Indian kebab recipe that has probably not changed much since the sixteenth century except for the addition of chilies and what is now the ubiquitous chaat masala, a mixture of hot and sour spices that most Indians just buy in the market. The use of mustard oil is interesting—I have seen it used for kebabs in both India and Pakistan. Both countries have a Punjab, as that state, today on India’s western border and Pakistan’s eastern border, was split into two when the British partitioned India. Chaat masala can be bought at any Indian grocery. It is a spice mixture containing sour mango powder, roasted cumin, cayenne, and other seasonings. It adds a spicy sourness but is not essential. Just sprinkle a dash of cayenne, and some roasted ground cumin seeds, if available, over the top and add some squirts of lime juice. I like to have these with Rice Pilaf with Almonds and Raisins and Sweet-and-Sour Eggplant.

A great variety of vegetable fillings exist. Vegetables with a meat filling are meant to be eaten hot, those with a meatless filling are usually cooked in oil and eaten cold. In Turkey these are called yalangi dolma or “false dolma,” because of the lack of meat. The following are the fillings most widely used. Quantities are enough to stuff about 2 pounds of vegetables, but this varies according to the size of the vegetables and the amount of pulp scooped out.

This is a meat stew with pasta. I am assured that it only tastes right if small Italian pasta called “orzo,” which look like tiny bird’s tongues or largish grains of rice, are used. In Egypt, families used to make the pasta themselves with flour and water, rolling tiny bits of dough into little ovals between their fingers. A friend recalls spending hours doing this with her brother every Sunday as a small child.

This Armenian specialty makes a hearty main dish. It has a pure and fresh quality and is an entirely different experience from eating an Italian or Asian pasta dish.

Manti, a specialty of Kayseri, are said to have been brought to Turkey from China by the Tartars. I first saw them being prepared in a hotel in Izmir twenty years ago. I was accompanied by Nevin Halici, a cooking teacher, culinary historian, and ethnographer, who was then researching the regional foods of Turkey. She was going from village to village, knocking on people’s doors and attending the traditional lunches where women cook together. The second time I saw the little dumplings being made was in a hotel in San Francisco, where at the invitation of the Institute of Food and Wine she was cooking a Turkish meal for almost a hundred people. She shaped the dumplings into tiny, open-topped, moneybag-like bundles, baked them for 20 minutes, poured chicken broth over them, and put them back in the oven again until they softened in the broth. The following recipe is for the easier version, like ravioli, which many Turkish restaurants make today. It is really delicious and quite different from any Italian dish. They call it klasik manti, and often cook it in chicken broth (see variation), which is particularly delicious.

The special feature of this dish is the exquisite mix of honeyed caramelized onions and raisins called tfaya which is served as a topping of the long-cooked, deliciously tender meat. The broth which moistens the grain is the meat broth. A sprinkling of fried or toasted almonds is an optional garnish.

This is the most famous Moroccan couscous, which you can improvise around. It can be made with lamb or chicken or with a mix of the two. In local lore, the number seven has mystical qualities. It brings good luck. Choose seven vegetables out of those listed—onions and tomatoes do not count as vegetables but as flavorings, so choose seven more. It is a long list of ingredients, but the making of the dish is simple—a matter of throwing things into a pot—and it feeds a big party. The soup or stew can be prepared well in advance, and so can the grain.

This old Turkish classic is a meal in itself, to be accompanied by a salad.

A very old Arab dish. It is good to serve yogurt with it.

Serve this Persian sauce, which has an unusual tart flavor, with plain rice steamed in the Persian manner (page 338) or the quick and easy boiled and steamed rice (page 339).

Serve with plain rice steamed in the Persian manner (page 338) or the quick and easy boiled and steamed rice (page 339).

Chicken may be used instead of meat. Serve with plain rice steamed in the Persian manner (page 338) or the quick and easy boiled and steamed rice (page 339). The eggplants are usually deep-fried, but in this instance it is as good to broil or grill them, as they get stewed as well. If you don’t fry them, it is not really important to salt them (see page 289).

This Persian sauce is exquisite, with delicate spicing and dried lime as the dominant flavor. Serve it with plain rice prepared in the Persian manner (page 338) or the quick and easy boiled and steamed rice (page 339).

This is one of the most popular sauces in Iran and a favorite of mine. Dried limes and the herb fenugreek give it a unique and delicious bitter-sour taste. Flat-leaf parsley, chives, and in some versions dill and cilantro complete the symphony of flavors. Fresh fenugreek can be found in Iranian and Oriental stores in the summer, and packets of dried fenugreek leaves are available the year round. Only a little is used, because it is very powerful. The dried limes can be found in Oriental and Indian stores in various forms, whole, broken into pieces, and powdered. To make them yourself, see page 44. If you can’t find the powdered one, add an extra whole one. Serve with plain rice steamed in the Persian manner (page 338) or the quick and easy boiled and steamed rice (page 339).

This exquisite and elegant Persian rice can also be made with chicken.

I was served this exciting dish by Iranian friends who live near me in London. As the golden crust was broken, the rice, stained patchily with red cherry juice, tumbled out with little meatballs and cooked cherries. Fresh sour cherries are used in Iran in their short season. They are pitted or not, and cooked with sugar until they are jammy. I use dried pitted sour cherries without sugar, with delicious results.

Apricots have a particular affinity with lamb. The early Arab Abbasid dynasty, centered in Baghdad, adopted the combination from the old Persian Empire that preceded it and created a series of dishes on the theme which they called mishmishiya (see page 255), mishmish being the Arab word for “apricot.” Apricot is still a favorite partner to lamb in modern Iran. The rest of the Middle East has adopted it to a lesser degree. You need a tart, natural variety of apricots, not a sweetened one.

A popular Turkish pilaf.

Rice cooked in milk for a very long time, until it is a soft cream, is a specialty of Saudi Arabia. It serves as a bed for lamb, often a whole animal, presented on a tray with melted clarified butter trickled on top. It is said that in the city of Taif they make it better than in Jedda or Medina. It is similar to a medieval dish featured in al-Baghdadi’s manual (see appendix). Serve with a cucumber, lettuce, and tomato salad. Some people accompany it with honey, to be stirred into each portion separately.

This is exquisite and also very easy. The quinces are hard and take a long time to cook before you can even cut them up and stuff them, but you can bake them hours—even a day—in advance. I use very large quinces, weighing a pound each. Serve as a hot first course.