Lemon

In Egypt, vendors sold crates of rose petals, in their season, for making rose water and rose jam. Certain varieties of rose, such as the wild eglantine of Turkey and Syria, are the best for jam-making. I have not been able to make a good one with the roses from my garden. The petals remained tough under the tooth.

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.

Preserved lemons lend a unique and distinctive flavor to North African dishes. You find the softened lemons in jars, or sold loose in street markets. They are now also common fare in the south of France. You can make them yourself. They take about 4 weeks to mature and can last a year. When they are ready to use, the pulp is scooped out and thrown away—only the skin is eaten. You can use small limes with thin skins, or ordinary lemons with thick ones. There are three common ways of making them.

Algerian polenta fritters are soft and creamy inside and crisp and golden outside. They are eaten hot, but you can prepare them in advance and reheat them. They are delicious.

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.

When I was a girl I could die for this. I hardly ever make it now, but I was very happy to find it again in Istanbul. This is a sweet of Turkish origin which was very popular in Egypt. Some bakeries and cafés always had a large tray full of the rich, translucent, golden-ocher bread soaked in honey and syrup. Numerous recipes exist, and of course the texture and taste depend on the bread and the honey used. Use a fragrant honey like Hymettus or acacia.

Ataïf are dearly loved all over the Arab world. They were favorites of the Caliph Mustakfi of Baghdad in the tenth century. At a lavish banquet in his honor, a poem written by a certain Mahmud ibn Husain al-Kushâjim extolling the merits of ataïf was recited. Basically pancakes dipped in syrup, they are sprinkled with pistachios and eaten with thick cream or, more grandly, they are stuffed with chopped nuts or with cheese. The stuffed ones are my favorites. They are eaten during festivals, especially during the month of Ramadan, when they are sold in the street. They are the sweets of happy occasions such as weddings. Once upon a time, in Egypt, on the day of betrothal, a string of camels or donkeys brought the bride’s furniture and belongings to the house of the bridegroom, while he gave a farewell “stag” banquet complete with dancers and singers. The young bride had a ritual bath and was then conducted to her new home by a colorful procession headed by buffoons and musicians, dancers, jugglers, sword swallowers, and fire eaters. These were followed by lavishly decorated donkey carts. A first cart carried a coffeemaker with pots and cups and a fire, making coffee for well-wishers. A second carried makers of ma’amoul and trays covered with these pastries to distribute. A third carried pancake makers, handing out ataïf to passersby. When the bride arrived at the house, she sat down with her guests to a feast where hundreds of these delicacies were consumed. Families nowadays usually buy their ataïf ready-made from bakeries, and then stuff them and soak them in syrup. But the batter is easy enough to make at home. Several people I know always make it themselves. None have scales, nor do they measure quantities. They just look at the batter and add more water or more flour if they think it requires it. An aunt who lives in California and who has never ceased to cook in the Oriental manner uses a well-known pancake mix, which is very acceptable.

These most famous of Moroccan pastries are best known abroad by their French name, cornes de gazelle or gazelle’s horns. Stuffed with ground-almond paste and curved into horn-shaped crescents, they are ubiquitous wedding-party fare. I have eaten some with a very thin hard crust, and some with a thicker, crumbly crust. This one, made with eggs rather than butter, is thin and crisp.

Called knafe by Syrians and Lebanese and kadaif by Greeks and Turks, the dough for this pastry that looks like soft white uncooked shredded wheat or vermicelli can be bought in Middle Eastern stores. There are several traditional fillings. The one with nuts is what you find in Arab pastry shops. The one with cream is my favorite. The one with the cheese is the easiest. The last two are meant to be served hot. They make a marvelous after-dinner dessert and teatime pastry. The quantities given below for the syrup are the usual large amount. You can pour only half over the pastry and serve the rest separately for those who want more.

A traditional and constant feature of Middle Eastern sweets and pastries is the sugar syrup which is used both in making them and to bathe, soak, or sprinkle on many of them. It is either thin and liquid, or thick and treacly, and scented with rose water or orange-blossom water or both. It can be made in advance and stored for many weeks, even months, in a glass jar, ready to be used. The following quantities give the most common thickness.

Buy very ripe melons with a sweet fragrance that you can smell from a distance.

You will find quinces in Middle Eastern grocers from October until February and longer. Large ones can weigh as much as 1 pound. Try the variation too. I love it.

I love this simple Turkish sweet, which is also made with apricots (see variation). I use a brioche-type bread for the base.

Another Ramadan specialty in Egypt is a cream made of sheets of dried pressed apricots (amareldine) soaked, then boiled in water. I was in Cairo during the Ramadan month a few years ago and saw hundreds of bowls of this tart-tasting fruit cream offered free at street parties. The sheets of amareldine available these days do not have the pure taste they once had—perhaps due to preservatives. It is better to use natural dried apricots. Pistachios or almonds and thick cream are optional embellishments. Sometimes cornstarch is used to give the cream the texture of jelly. For this, see the variation.

This version of the Tunisian meshweya (page 85) can be served hot or cold. I prefer it cold.

A disadvantage of these root vegetables is that they provoke wind. But they do have a delicious flavor. Smoother, less knobbly varieties available today are easier to peel.

This Turkish specialty, usually served hot, is also good cold. The only problem is the peeling, or, rather, the cutting away of the skin, which is covered in soil.

Chicory is one of the vegetables believed to have been eaten in ancient Egypt. It has a pleasant, slightly bitter taste when it is cooked. In this Lebanese mountain dish, wild chicory is used.