Ramadan

In our house, we all like different types of omelettes. We tend to make our own. This is how I make mine. Indians generally eat their omelettes with sliced bread, toast, or parathas.

Here is our family’s most beloved Sunday breakfast/brunch dish. I prepare all the ingredients beforehand and then scramble the eggs as we are sitting down to eat. Toast or heated flatbreads should be served on the side. I like to use the asafetida as it gives a truffle-like aroma, but you could leave it out if you wish. You may have this with slices of French or Italian bread, with toast, or with any of the three Indian breads in this book.

In Bangladesh, the basic diet is fish and rice. It is not fish from the Bay of Bengal, the sea that rules their shores, that the people thrive on. In fact, they hardly touch that. What they love is the sweet-water fish that comes from their estuaries, rivers, lakes, and ponds. Since local Bangladeshi fish are unavailable to most of us, I have adapted this recipe to fillet of flounder. One of the common local seasonings is an aromatic lime leaf very similar to the kaffir lime leaf of Thailand. If you cannot get that, use fresh curry leaves, or, failing that, fresh basil leaves. Serve with plain rice, a dal, and a vegetable or salad.

I first had this sauce, or one similar to it, in the late 1940s. India had just been partitioned, and a refugee family fleeing from what was to become Pakistan had just opened a small, simple restaurant in the center of Delhi called Moti Mahal. It basically served foods baked in the clay oven called a tandoor. There was one sauced dish, however, Chicken Makhani. A tandoor-roasted chicken was cut up with a cleaver and then heated up in this tomatoey, buttery, creamy sauce. I have always loved the sauce. Over the years, I have played around with it, using it with shrimp, and now with salmon. Serve with Swiss Chard with Ginger and Garlic and Rice Pilaf with Almonds and Raisins.

We sat on cushions at an open-air, rooftop restaurant in Peshawar, Pakistan. As it was winter, we had been offered quilts to cover our legs and small individual braziers to keep at our sides. The glow of tandoor clay ovens just a few paces away offered added consolation. It was from there that this fish dish emerged. It was a river fish caught nearby, cooked whole in the tandoor until its outside was browned and the inside was flaky and soft. It was the spices that gave the fish its kick. I asked the chef for the recipe, and here it is. I have had to make a few changes. Instead of the river fish I have used Spanish mackerel (you could also use filleted trout); instead of quick-roasting in a tandoor I pan-fry; instead of ajowan seeds, I have used dried thyme (both contain thymol); and instead of sour oranges I have used a mixture of lemon and sugar. It still tastes marvelous. In Peshawar, this was served with a simple Vinegar-Chili-Onion Dipping Sauce. That recipe is on page 242. You could serve this Western style with boiled parsley potatoes and some green beans, or with Carrots with Cilantro and Potatoes with Cumin and Mustard Seeds.

I make this a lot when tomatoes are in season. It makes for a simple, nutritious lunch or first course.

Here is a soup that I had in Pakistan’s most famous northwestern city, Peshawar. Many of the grander Muslim families, in both India and Pakistan, offer some form of aab gosht, or meat broth, at the start of a meal. Sometimes it comes in cups even before one is seated and requires just sipping. This is a variation of that and requires a spoon. What I was offered on a rather cold day was a steaming bowl of well-seasoned goat broth in which floated oyster mushrooms and slices of river fish. It was so delicious that I decided to come up with a version myself. I have used beef stock, though lamb stock would do as well. If you cannot get fresh oyster mushrooms, use the canned ones, sold by all Chinese grocers, or canned straw mushrooms. Just drain them and rinse them out.

Here is a dish that, as far as I know, was only served in India by my own family. My mother made it; my grandmother made it. It was made only when peas were young and fresh. Even Indians (from other families and from other parts of India) who have dined with us in the pea season are surprised by it. It requires whole, fresh peas in their pods. I grow my own peas, and this is the first dish I make with them when they are ready for picking. You have to eat the peas rather like artichoke leaves: you put the whole pea pod in your mouth, holding on to it by its stem end, clench your teeth, and pull. What you get to eat are not just the peas themselves but also the softened outsides of the shells. You discard the fibrous bits after getting all the goodness out of them. We ate this as a snack or at teatime, but I have taken to serving it as a first course.

I often offer these as an appetizer. I serve them just the way they are, but you could also serve them on toasted slices of Italian bread or just buttered toast.

I love cheese toast the way it is done in India—with some chopped fresh green chilies and cilantro thrown in. We like to serve it with tea, as we seem to love the combination of spicy snacks and very hot tea! You can use any white bread (or brown, if you prefer), any cheese you like (I happen to like sharp cheddar), and the chilies could be fresh green ones (about 1/4 teaspoon, well chopped) but the pickled Greek ones are fine too, and, as I always have them on hand in my refrigerator and I like the tartness they provide, I use them instead. Some Anglo-Indian recipes have the yolks of hard-boiled eggs mixed with mustard spread inside the sandwich as well. I make my sandwich in a frying pan, but a panini press, if you have one of those, would work too.

A hot drink of boiled scented water taken as an alternative to coffee at night is an old tradition in Syria and Lebanon.

This exquisite delicacy makes a ready dessert. Accompany if you like with vanilla ice cream or mascarpone. It is made with fresh dates—the yellow or red varieties, which are hard and sour and totally different from the dried dates with which people in America are familiar. (They are called zaghlouli in Egypt.) It is usual to peel them, but that is an arduous task and, in my view, not all that much worth the effort. They are stuffed with blanched almonds, with which they make a lovely combination.

This popular Lebanese pickle is served as a mezze. Make sure the walnuts have a fresh taste.

A recipe is given in al-Baghdadi’s medieval cookery manual for these crisp little golden balls soaked in scented syrup or honey, bearing the same name, luqmat el qadi, which means “judge’s mouthfuls.” In Egypt they are known as zalabia, in Lebanon they are known as aweimat. The Greeks have a similar sweet called loukoumades. They are street food. Vendors deep-fry them and throw them into a syrup. During festivals they are sometimes colored bright yellow or red for joy and happiness and sold sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. For parties they are served piled in a pyramid on a platter, held together by a sticky syrup.

Basbousa is a popular Egyptian pastry, also called helwa, which means “sweet.”

Taratir-at-turkman means “bonnets of the Turks.” There are very old recipes for these little pastries. The quantities make a large number, but they keep very well in a tin.