Food Processor

This version has a delicate flavor and is rather creamier than most. My mother discovered it in the Sudan, and has made it ever since. It can be a dip or a sauce.

Serve as an appetizer with pita bread, or as a sauce to accompany various dishes such as fried fish, boiled vegetables, and falafel.

This is one of Egypt’s national dishes, welcome at all times, for breakfast, lunch, or supper. The Christian Copts, who are said to be pure descendants of the ancient Egyptians, claim this dish as their own, along with melokheya soup (page 146). Their claim might be justified, since these dishes are extremely old. During Coptic religious festivals, and particularly during Lent, when they are not allowed to eat meat for many weeks, every Coptic family produces mountains of ta’amia for their own daily consumption and to be distributed to non-Coptic friends and neighbors. Ta’amia (called “falafel” in Alexandria) are patties or rissoles made from large dried fava beans (ful nabed), which look white because they are sold skinless. Splendidly spiced and flavored, and deep-fried in oil, they are delicious. I have never known anyone not to like them. The best I have eaten were in Alexandria, with my aunt and uncle. Every year they rented a flat there, the balcony of which was directly above a café which specialized in ta’amia. My relatives were both rather large, which was not surprising, since we always seemed to come upon them eating; and I could never visualize them eloping, gazellelike, in their youth, which was the romantic legend that was told to us. On each visit, we would sit with them for hours on their balcony overlooking the sea. Time and again, a basket would be lowered on a rope to the café below and pulled up again with a haul of fresh ta’amia, sometimes nestling in the pouch of warm, newly baked Arab bread. We would devour them avidly with pieces of bread dipped in tahina salad, and then wait anxiously for the basket to be filled up again. You must buy the large broad beans which are sold already skinned as “split broad beans” in Middle Eastern stores (again, they look white without their brown skins).

This is another wonderful Turkish paste which makes a delicious canapé spread.

There are many versions of this exquisite Turkish and Syrian relish. Serve it with bread as an appetizer, or as an accompaniment to a cooked vegetable salad, or with broiled fish or meat.

Gray-mullet roe was originally used in Turkey and Greece for this famous dip, but smoked cod’s roe now generally replaces it. I like to use a mixture of sunflower or flavorless vegetable oil and olive oil, which allows the taste of the roe to dominate.

This dearly loved Egyptian specialty is a loose mixture of nuts and spices in a dry, crushed, but not powdered form, usually eaten with bread dipped in olive oil. In Egypt it is served at breakfast or as an appetizer. It is a very personal and individual mixture which varies from one family to another. On a recent visit to Australia I was amazed to find that my mother’s recipe had made it fashionable there. Wineries were inspired to produce their own adaptations of “Aussie dukkah” with locally grown seeds, different spices, and even ground chili pepper and now sell it in elegant packages, while restaurants put some out on little plates for people to dip in. It will keep for months stored in a jar. To serve, pour a little olive oil on small slices of bread and sprinkle generously with the mixture. Or provide Arab bread for people to tear pieces and dip into bowls of olive oil and do’a.

I had never come across this pastry before. I tasted it in Beirut, where a few patisseries claim to have invented it. One called Bohsali gave it the name Bohsalino; another calls it Taj el Malek. It involves a little skill—akin to pottery making—that improves with practice. In Lebanon they are filled with the thick cream that rises to the top when rich buffaloes’ milk is boiled. They do not keep more than a few days because of the cream and must be kept in the refrigerator.

The dish takes its name from the governor who administered Mount Lebanon between 1861 and 1868 in Ottoman times. Serve it with plain or Vermicelli Rice (page 304).

Kibbeh forms a major part of the national dishes of Lebanon. There are countless versions, from a raw meat paste to little, oval shells stuffed with a ground meat filling and deep-fried or cooked in yogurt or bitter orange juice, as well as vegetarian kibbeh with pumpkin or potato, and one with fish—each version having a number of regional variations. One thing they all have in common is bulgur (burghul in Lebanon). Since most are labor-intensive and require skill and application, they are not the kind of thing you undertake if you are not part of the culture. So I was very happy to discover a traditional kibbeh that was truly delightful and relatively easy, with only one layer of kibbeh and a flavorsome onion and pine nut topping. I found it in a little restaurant in Beirut called Kibbet Zaman (Yesterday’s Kibbeh). It can be served hot or cold (I prefer it hot) as a main dish or cut up small as a mezze. It is really worth doing—I guarantee you will surprise your guests. Accompany it with baba ghanouj (page 248), hummus (page 249), and a salad

The ground meat for this kebab—I usually buy shoulder of lamb—should have a good amount of fat so that it remains moist and juicy. Most of it will melt away in the heat of the grill. You will need skewers with a thick, wide blade to hold the meat and prevent it from rolling around. Alternatively, it is easier and equally good to shape the meat into burgers. Serve them with Arab flat breads or the very thin, Lebanese markouk (see page 245), and accompany them with a salad and a choice of mezze.

The dough given here is one of a variety used to make the famous Arab “pizzas” variously called lahma bi ajeen and sfiha. It contains yogurt and olive oil and is soft and moist. Small pizzas make good finger food; large ones make an excellent snack. They can be made in advance and reheated. Do also try the different toppings given in the variations below.

These melt-in-the-mouth cheese pies make good party food. They can be eaten hot or warm. You can make them in advance and heat them through before serving. Use fresh or frozen and defrosted puff pastry.

This is the simplest ever pumpkin soup where the pure, sweet taste of pumpkin is married with the slightly sharp one of yogurt. The large orange-fleshed pumpkins are winter vegetables, but you can find them throughout the year in Asian and Middle Eastern stores, sold by the slice, with their seeds and fibers removed, and wrapped in plastic wrap.

For this fresh-tasting soup, I blend the tomatoes to a cream in the food processor without peeling them and cook them only a little. The egg and lemon finish gives it a creamy texture. The rice should be cooked separately and added just before serving as it goes mushy if it stays too long in the soup. Spearmint is commonly used but you can use other types of mint.

This is a version of a surprising paste that you also find in Turkey. Pomegranate molasses (or concentrate) gives it an intriguing sweet-and-sour flavor (see page 7). Some like it peppery-hot with chili flakes or purée (see Variation below); personally, I like it with only a touch of ground chili pepper.

Hummus is popular in America now. It is the kind of thing you make to taste, adding a little more garlic, salt, or tahini as you go along. Serve it with warmed pita bread.

Turkey has a very wide range of milk puddings. I once spent much of one night watching specialist milk pudding–makers at work, endlessly stirring creams in giant copper cauldrons. They said they had to work at night because that was when the milk arrived, which was why, they complained, they could not recruit young people to do the job. I don’t blame them. This pudding, made with ground almonds, is my favorite.

Meats grilled on skewers over the dying embers of a fire are a symbol of Turkish cuisine. They are said to be a legacy of nomadic times, perfected in the conquering era of the Ottomans, when soldiers camping out in tents skewered their meats on swords and cooked them on the campfire. Years ago, I went on a tour of kebab houses in Istanbul. It was a grand eating marathon. At the fifth establishment they opened the refrigeration room and showed me all the prize cuts, which were later presented to me straight from the fire on a huge platter. As well as lamb kebabs and ground meat kebabs on skewers, there were small lamb chops, kidneys, slices of calf ’s liver, beef steaks, sucuk (spicy beef sausages), and pieces of chicken. It was a gourmand’s dream, but for me at the time, afraid to give offence by not eating everything, it was a nightmare. Serve the kebabs with pita bread or with other bread from a Middle Eastern store, such as Turkish flat bread like an Italian focaccia or a sesame bread, and with one or more of the garnishes below.

Sautéed chicken kebabs are more tender and juicy than the grilled ones on skewers, which are served in kebab houses. Accompany these with tomato pilaf and a Cucumber and Yogurt Salad (see page 156). The dark, wine-red spice called sumac (see page 7) lends a sharp lemony taste to the chicken