Sunday, September 17, 2017

Stuffed Potato Dough

Kubbat Puteta Chap

بتيتة جاب
It is the best guise that potatoes can ever take. The stuffed fried discs are a delight to look at and to eat.


The meaning of chap in this otherwise very Iraqi modern dish eludes me. In all probability, it is a corruption of some sort of an English or Indian word which might have filtered into the dialect during the time of the British colonization.

However, the art of making kubba, of stuffing food with food, is certainly not new to the Iraqi cooks. Indeed, it can be traced all the way back the ancient times, as manifested in the Babylonians' bird pies, prepared by enclosing birds cooked in white sauce between two layers of seasoned dough. Detailed recipes for making such an ancient stuffed food are found in a Babylonian culinary tablet written in Akkadian cuneiform in 1700 BC:


Babylonian culinary tablet 8958, Yale Babylonian Collection  
 Even the term kubba itself, used to designate this kind of stuffed food, might well have originally derived from the Akkadian ‘kubbusu,’ which designates a cake (think a meat patty or a fish cake). See also my previous post on Kubbat Halab.
      
Using the New World potatoes for making kubba is a relatively new development in the art of making kubba, which is more traditionally made with bulgur and rice.    

Here is how to make it:

(Makes 18 to 20 pieces)

For the shell:
2 pounds potatoes (all-purpose will do), boiled whole and unpeeled
½ cup cornstarch (use a bit less with starchy potatoes)
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
For the filling, see my previous post on kubbat Halab
About 1 cup breadcrumbs for coating
Oil for frying

1. Peel the boiled potatoes when cool enough to handle. Cut them into smaller pieces. Put them in a big bowl, and add cornstarch, salt, and pepper. Then mash them with a potato masher, or run them through a potato ricer. A blender or a food processor is not recommended because it will cause the potatoes to develop a gummy texture. With a moistened hand, knead mixture the way you knead pastry dough until well blended, about 5 minutes. If the mixture is too dry to form into dough (sometimes this happens when potatoes are too starchy), sprinkle it with a small amount of water. 

2. Divide dough into 18 to 20 pieces, size of a small lemon, each. With moistened hands, flatten a piece into a thin wok-like disk. Put about 2 tablespoons of the filling in the middle, gather edges, and close the piece into a ball. Flatten it into a disc by putting it between the palms of the hands and gently pressing the edges so that it is full in the middle and thinner around the edges. Always remember to handle dough with slightly moistened hands. Put finished discs in one layer on a tray or a flat dish.

3. Put breadcrumbs in a dish, and coat discs before frying. Shake off excess crumbs.




4. Put about an inch of oil in a skillet. When hot, fry discs turning once to brown on both sides, 3 to 4 minutes for each side. If they brown quickly, turn heat down a little. 



5. Put the fried discs in a large colander lined with white paper towels, and let them cool off a little before serving. Alternatively, you may spread the paper towels on a rack and put the fried discs in one layer to cool off. This way you will prevent them from getting soggy.

Serve warm with lots of salad, and bread. They also make an exciting filling for a sandwich (too much starch! But really delicious). Fill a sandwich bread (such as Italian ciabatta) with a piece or two of puteta chap along with lots of sliced salad vegetables.





Baked Puteta Chap
(Makes 18 to 20 squares)

Most of the Iraqi traditional dishes are fried, because up until the late 1950s, ovens were not available in every kitchen as they are today. Nowadays there is no reason why some of the fried dishes should not be baked. The following is a lighter version of the traditional puteta chap.

1. Use the same ingredients given above. Make dough as directed in the first step, and prepare filling as directed above.

2. Preheat oven to 380°F. Grease a 12x7x2-inch baking pan (or approximate size). Coat its bottom and sides generously with breadcrumbs. Shake off excess crumbs

3. Divide dough into 2 parts. Cover the bottom of the prepared pan with one part, and spread the filling all over it. Next, cover this filling with the other half of the dough by taking small portions, and flattening and putting them on the filling until the entire surface is covered. With wet fingers, lightly press the top layer closing any gaps on the surface. Brush with a beaten egg and sprinkle lightly with breadcrumbs. Decorate surface with a fork, if you like, and drizzle it with a little oil.
           

4. Bake it in the preheated oven for about 40 minutes, or until surface is golden brown. Let it cool for 10 minutes, and divide it into 18 to 20 squares. 



Tuesday, July 26, 2016

The Sweet and the Salty:

Cookies of the Medieval Arab World

with Modern Adaptations

Follow the advice of the medieval Arab gourmets: Keep your taste buds perked up while snacking on sweet cookies by alternating them with salty ones.   
        

Growing up in Baghdad, I remember that our favorite snack-time was in the afternoon, when Mom would summon us all to her tray of tea and goodies, typical of which would be an assortment of the flavorful aromatic sweet homemade cookies of kleicha (see my post), some stuffed with sugar and walnut and some with dates, and yet others stuffed with cheese and parsley. Along with these, would also be the purchased sugar-less sesame-encrusted dunking cookies of ka'ak, as well as baqsam (biscotti) and churek (see my post). A perfect harmony of flavors and textures of which we couldn't have enough and wished the afternoon would last for ever.   


The famous ka'ak bakery of Al-Seyyid in downtown Baghdad

A Bit of History:

Of the more than 300 varieties of breads the ancient Mesopotamians of Iraq knew, a good number of them were of the kind they called 'improved'. They were cookies, cakes and pastries variously enriched with clarified butter, dairy, beer, sweeteners, nuts, and dried fruits. The cookies were shaped into rings, pillars, turbans, crescents, hearts, heads, hands, ears, and even women's breasts. Such top quality breads were called 'kuku' in Akkadian, the ancient language of the Mesopotamians, from which the Arabic ka'k (كعك) must have derived. Mesopotamia was indeed the cradle of cookies.

And the tradition continued. The existing cookbooks of the medieval Arabo-Islamic world testify to the sophistication and popularity of cookie-making and consumption. The most prevalent were those stuffed with nuts or dates, back then called khushkananaj (خشكنانج), which resemble the ancient Mesopotamian 'qullupu' cookies, and the kleicha and ma'mul of modern times. There were also varieties of the ka'k dry cookies, sandwich cookies, glazed cookies, and there were the delicate almond cookies, sensuously called virgin's breasts. All differently infused with the aromas of rosewater and musk, seasoned with spices, and decked with nuts.

Here is the recipe for virgin's breasts:




Two versions of the cookie recipe nuhood al-adhraa' (virgin's breasts) from 14th-century كتاب وصف الاطعمة المعتادة (Book of Recipes of the Traditional Dishes), which is an augmented version of 13th-century al-Baghdadi's cookbook كتاب الطبيخ (Cookery Book) 

The same recipe in 14th-century Egyptian cookbook Kanz al-Fawa'id
"One part flour, one part clarified butter (samn), one part sugar, and one part almond. Crush them all together, knead them very well, and shape it like breasts. Water is not used. Arrange pieces in a yellow-copper tray (ṭabaq) and bake them in a brick oven (furn)." (English translation mine)

Only one recipe survived, which describes how to make salted cookies. The recipe explains that these cookies are to be offered with the sweet ones, in case the eater’s appetite dulls with having only sweet foods. Here it is:  



Recipe for aqraas mamlooha (salted cookies) from 14th-century Egyptian cookbook Kan al-Fawa'id
"Take as much as you need of flour. For each raṭl (1 pound/4 cups), use ¼ raṭl (4 ounces/½ cup) sesame oil, and enough salt to give a noticeably salty taste. Knead [the ingredients with yeast and water], and after dough rises shape it into discs as you do with khubz al-abār (cookies with spice-seeds), but make them a little bit thinner, and bake them. After they develop a golden hue (tawarrada), take them out. These cookies are offered in case the eater’s appetite dulls from having sweet foods. Therefore, they are to be served while having them." (English translation mine)  



Following are my adaptations of the two cookies, the sweet and the salty.  

Almond Kisses

(بسكت باللوز)

Makes 20 pieces
    

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup almond flour
3/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup oil (such as canola)

3 tablespoons rosewater
20 raisins



1. Put all the dry ingredients (the first six) in a food processor, and pulse once or twice to mix ingredients.
2. Add oil slowly through the tube, and pulse a few more times.
3. Add the rosewater, and pulse several times until the mix clumps together. Add a bit more if needed.
4. Take a walnut-size piece, press by hand into a ball and place it on a lightly oiled cookie sheet. Slightly moisten your hands with a bit of rosewater while handling the mix. Repeat with the rest of pieces. Press a raisin in the middle of each piece, and bake on the middle shelf of a preheated oven (375 F.) for 13 to 15 minutes (do not let them over bake). During the last two minutes of baking, let the cookies bake on the top shelf of the oven. 


Cheesy Cookies

(بسكت بالجبن)

Makes 26 pieces
                        

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons dried dill weed
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground aniseeds
1/4 teaspoon ground nigella seeds 
1/4 teaspoon ground dried ginger 

1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

1/2 cup oil (such as canola)
1/2 cup yogurt
2 eggs, divided

26 macadamia or hazelnuts nuts

chili pepper, for sprinkling, optional


1. Stir dry ingredients (first seven) in a bowl.
2. Stir in the cheese by fork or hand.
3. Beat together oil, yogurt and one egg, and pour them on the flour mix. Stir with a fork or by fingers in a circular movement at first to allow the flout to absorb the moisture, and then knead them into a medium-consistency dough.
4. Lightly flour the working space. Take some of the dough, and flatten it with a rolling pin to 1/3-inch thickness. Cut it into shapes with cookie cutters. Arrange the pieces on a lightly greased cookie sheet. Stick a macadamia nut or a hazelnut in each cookie, and sprinkle surface with chili pepper (optional). Beat the second egg and brush the pieces with it.
5. Bake on the middle shelf of a preheated oven (375 F.) for about 15 minutes. During the last two minutes of baking, let the cookies bake on the top shelf of the oven.

Enjoy!
                       


Monday, April 4, 2016

Everybody Loves Salsa

 Mustard and Vinegar Sauce
خل وخردل


The perfect salsa for your grilled dishes:


In modern Iraq what first comes to one’s mind at the mention of the words sauce and salsa is a store-bought bottle of steak sauce similar to A1, which we use primarily with hamburger sandwiches. We think of salsa as a loan word and a foreign concept. Other store-bought sauces are more commonly known by their names, such as khardal (yellow mustard sauce), ketchup, and mayonnaise. Homemade dips and sauces are usually given names, such as hummus bi-thina, jajeek (yogurt sauce), etc.

The general consensus nowadays regarding the etymological origin of salsa and sauce is that they have been borrowed into English from Spanish and French, respectively, and that both ultimately come from Latin salsus ‘salted,’ which stems from sal ‘salt,’ which indeed is an important ingredient in making sauce and salsa (see American Heritage Dictionary 4th edition). BUT:

Etymology aside, serving dishes with some sort of sauce, relish, or condiment is an ancient custom going back to the ancient world. In one of the Babylonian recipes preserved on cuneiform tablets written around 1700 BC, there are directions for the cook to send the dish to the table accompanied with “garlic, greens, and vinegar” (Jean Bottéro, Mesopotamian Culinary Texts 12). 

Given the high level of sophistication the ancient Mesopotamian cuisine achieved, it is likely that these ingredients were presented in the form of a relish, or what we call today salsa, i.e. chopped and mixed with vinegar. Otherwise, there is no logic in imagining that these ingredients were actually presented to the aristocratic diners in separate containers, so that they munch on whole garlic cloves and vegetables, and sip vinegar from a bowl. In fact, judging from the Akkadian herbal texts and related medicinal practices, such relishes and sauces were indeed meant to function as appetizers and digestives.

Later on, the ancient Greeks and the Romans showed the same tendencies, as exemplified in Apiciusthe only cookbook which came down to us from classical antiquity, believed to have been compiled around late 4th or early 5th century AD. The book abounds with sauce recipes called oenogarum. They were served with all kinds of meat and vegetables, such as in the recipe “Herb sauce for fried fish:

Prepare, wash, and fry whatever fish you like. Pound pepper, cumin, coriander seed, laser root [asafetida], oregano, rue, pound again; pour on vinegar, add date, honey, defrutum [reduced grape juice], oil, flavor with liquamen [fermented fish sauce]. Put into a pan, bring it to heat; when it is simmering, pour it over the fried fish, sprinkle with pepper and serve. (Grocock and Grainger, Apicius 301) 
 
Evidently, the tradition of serving meat and vegetable dishes with the suitable dips and sauces continued well into the medieval times. In the Islamic-Arab medieval world, the general Arabic word used designating such condiments was إدام idam and صباغ  sibagh. To my knowledge, the earliest record occurs in the Qur’an (revealed between 610 and 632 AD), where the olive tree is said to provide people with oil used as sibgh (صِبغ) condiment (Al-Mu’minoun, Chapter xxiii: verse 20). Indeed, olive oil along with vinegar was deemed the most basic of all condiments. We still relish a dip of seasoned olive oil with bread, and think of it as being an exclusively Italian simple dip.

Now, we come to the earliest extant Arabic cookbook, which is al-Warraq’s tenth-century Baghdadi cookbook Kitab al-Tabeekh كتاب الطبيخ  . It covers the Abbasid cuisine from late eighth to mid- tenth century. This cookbook contains many recipes for condiments called sibagh (صباغ), which are similar to what we have in Apicius. They are served as dips and sauces with meat, fish, and vegetable dishes, as an aid to digestion, particularly with grilled dishes, as they were thought to be hard to digest. Fish was deemed especially bad for the digestion, due to its cold properties, unless aided with the suitable sibagh.

In al-Warraq’s chapter dealing with fish dips, the book explains that sauces cooked with asafetida, onion, and spices aid digestion and sauces cooked with raisins and pomegranate seeds whet the appetite and help purge the food out of the system fast. The best were sauces cooked with sumac and almond because they digest very fast.  

The gourmet prince Ibrahim bin al-Mahdi (d. 839), half-brother of Harun al-Rasheed, composed a poem on a perfect fish dish served with sibagh (al-Warraq, Chapter 33):

وطاه اتى في يوم قيظ بصحفة     وفيها من الشبوط كالجدي احمرا
قد احكمه شيّا وصير حشوه      كرفسا وكراثا وزيتا وصعترا
وهيّا له من بعد ذلك صباغه     عصارة رمان ولوز وسكّرا
وخلا ومريا وانجذانا وفلفلا      وزيتا ركابيا وجوزا وكزبرا
فجاء بها كالشمس لونا وبهجة     تعاطيك انجوجا ومسكا وعنبرا


On a hot summer day, the cook brought us a dish of shabbut (carp) fish, a golden kid-roast resembled.
Masterly roasted; with parsley, leeks, olive oil, and thyme stuffed.
Then its sibagh he made of pomegranate juice, sugar, and almond,
Vinegar, murri, asafetida leaves, black pepper, olive oil, walnut, and coriander.
He brought it in looking like the sun, a radiant delight, redolent with aloe wood, musk, and amber (My translation, in Annals of the Caliphs' Kitchens)

Sibagh was sometimes served as a dip alongside the grilled or fried dishes. It was put in small bowls called sakarij. They were used communally by the eaters, which necessitated that they should stay clean. Diners were strongly cautioned against what today is called double dipping -- dip a morsel into the sibagh bowl, have a bite, and dip it again (as happens in one of Seinfeld's episodes). Such a person back then was disparagingly called القطّاع al-qattaa’ ‘the cutter.’

Etymologically, one of the medieval meanings of sibagh was ‘a dip,’ from the verb sabagha صبغ  'to dip.’ Interestingly, this term was also applied to the Christians’ rite of baptizing children, and explains why John the Baptist, for example, was given the name Yohanna al-Sabbagh يوحنا الصباغ.

It turns out the word ultimately derives from the ancient Mesopotamian language. In the Akkadian dictionary, the verb sapu (variant saba’u) means ‘to soak, drench.’ Interestingly, this also sheds light on the meaning of the name of an ancient religious group that still exists in modern Iraq, the Sabians (الصابئة). In the Iraqi dialect, they are called Subba, followers of John the Baptist, who choose to live close to rivers.    

To resume the subject of sauces and dips, as we come to the thirteenth century, we notice some kind of development. In al-Baghdadi’s cookbook Kitab al-Tabeekh, sibagh recipes given were no longer poured all over the cooked meat and vegetables. Instead, they were presented as separate appetizers to be eaten with bread. According to al-Baghdadi, they were given between dishes, to cleanse the palate, sharpen the appetite, and aid digestion.

In the rest of the extant medieval Arabic cookbooks, which belong more or less to the same era as that of al-Baghdadi's, such as the Aleppan Al-Wusla ila ’l-Habeeb الوصلة الى الحبيب by the Syrian historian Ibn al-‘Adeem and the Egyptian Kanz al-Fawa’id كنز الفوائد, we come across condiments known by the name صُلص/ صلوصات suls/ sulusat (singular صَلص sals).

From the many recipes given in these books, we realize we are dealing with condiments — in content and function — similar to those of sibagh. However, from the sulusat recipes we infer that the dips and sauces started to be made smoother and uniform in consistency. The ingredients were pounded in a mortar until they resembled marham (ointment), as one of the recipes specified. The cook was also instructed to adjust the liquid added until the mixture attains قوام الصلص qiwam al-sals (sauce consistency), which I take to be neither runny nor too thick, the eater should be able to pick up some of the sauce with a piece of bread. Some of the sauces were meant for immediate use, such as the one prepared by mixing yogurt with pounded garlic and mint. Others were sealed in containers for up to a month. In one of the recipes, the prepared sauce was kept in one-time-use bottles because the sauce would mold after the bottle was opened. Here is its recipe from the Egyptian cookbook Kanz al-Fawa’id, recipe no. 491, called sals Kamili (صلص كاملي), most probably after the Ayyubid King al-Malik al-Kamil, who ruled 1218 to 1238:



12-century glass bottle, probably Syrian.
Credit: MET Museum, 2005,318,
Friends of Islamic Art Gifts, 2005 
Recipe for Sals Kamili:
Take the very tender leaves from the tips of citron stems (qulub al-utrunj), soak them in fine-tasting water, and then [drain them and] take one part, and pound them in jurn al-fuqqa’i. Take a similar amount, by weight, of chervil (baqdunis), and another similar amount of rayhan turunji (lemon balm). Pound them in the same manner, and mix them all; sprinkle on them crushed Andarani salt (rock salt), and squeeze in what is needed of lime juice.

Empty the sauce into glass bottles, and seal their surfaces with sweet olive oil. In each bottle, there should be an amount enough for a single table. Before serving the sauce, [a mix of] galangal, ginger, cloves, and black pepper—all crushed, are sprinkled on it to give it a delicious flavor. Some people choose to use it without adding these spices (My translation). 





It is still unresolved whether the suls dipping condiments were indigenous to the Middle Eastern region, etymologically and in substance, or whether they were an imported concept during the time of the Crusades. However, I venture here to side with the former. The condiment in all its varieties has a long established history in the region. Besides, the name, after all, might not necessarily have been Latin in origin (from salsus and sal). In the major medieval Arabic dictionaries, salas (pl. suls) is descriptive of the consistency of ‘soft mud,’ which indeed is applicable to the consistency of the sauces, described above. 

Clearly, the history of salsa needs to be revised in light of what is being discovered of the medieval Arab cuisine. Meanwhile here is a simple medieval recipe to enjoy for a condiment, usually served with grilled meat, from al-Baghdadi’s thirteenth-century cookbook كتاب الطبيخ Kitab al-Tabeekh. It is called Khal wa Khardal (vinegar and mustard): 




Take sweet almonds, skin them, finely pound them, and mix them with very sour vinegar, adding enough of it to thin down the mix. Finely pound mustard seeds and add, as much as you wish of it to the the almond mix, along with the spice blend atraf al-teeb (My translation).     

Mustard and Vinegar Sauce
(Khal wa Khardal)
خل وخردل
This is my adaptation of this recipe: 

            ½ cup (2 ounces) whole almonds, toasted and cooled
            1 cup (2 ounces) chopped parsley
            2 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
            ¼ cup olive oil

            ¼ cup vinegar
            2 tablespoons mustard sauce
            1 teaspoon thyme or za'tar
            ½ teaspoon salt
            ¼ teaspoon black pepper
           
1. Put almonds, parsley, and garlic in a blender or food processor. Blend, adding oil gradually until mixture is well pureed.
 
2. Add vinegar, mustard, thyme, salt, and pepper. Pulse mixture for a few seconds to blend.

Delicious with all kinds of grilled meat. 



Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Eggplant Sandwich 

 لفّة بيتنجان
Laffat Betinjan


Vegetarians' paradise!


Eggplant makes easy but bewitchingly scrumptious sandwiches. They are quite popular in Iraq, eaten especially at dinnertime, the time for the smaller meal of the day (for lunch, more serious stuff is offered). Interestingly, Iraqi Jews used to eat it for the Sabbath morning meal, and they simply called it laffa (wrap sandwich), and they are the ones credited for making it a popular sandwich in Israel today, where it is more popularly known as sabich (but see a reader's comment below). 

Sabich, the name, is most probably derived from the word subuh 'morning', which hearkens to the old times of Baghdad when the sandwich was a Sabbath morning staple. (Have a look at Vered Guttman's interesting article)

To prepare laffat batinjan, piping-hot fried slices of eggplant with slices of tomatoes and pickles (especially amba 'pickled mango') are wrapped in the tannour-baked flat bread khubuz). Laffa, lit. a wrap, eventually gave its name to all types of sandwiches, wrapped and otherwise, such as when sammoon bread is used instead, by slashing it open and stuffing it. 

Khubuz

Sammoon is traditionally shaped into diamonds and baked in the commercial brick oven.
Iraqi sammoon (photo by Bryan Schatmaat)
















A Bit of History:
It is believed that the Eggplant has been growing in the Mesopotamian region since ancient times. According to the Assyriologist Jean Bottero, author of The Oldest Cuisine in the World, eggplant was one of the items offered to guests of the most famous feast held by the Assyrian King Ashurnasirpal II in the ninth century BC (p. 103). 

Besides, in a monograph on the Assyrian vegetable drugs The Assyrian Herbal, based on 600 Assyrian cuneiform tablets, Campbell Thompson, the translator of these ancient Akkadian documents, is of the opinion that the plant pi(l)lu perhaps refers to Solanum Melengena L, eggplant. Pillu, at that time, he says, was also used to designate 'egg' and the mandrake fruit, which itself belongs to the same family as that of the eggplant. It is the 
nightshade (Solanaceae), a family of dubious history.


Mandrake fruit

The mandrake itself has long been associated with witchcraft and magic rituals and potions. It was mentioned as a ‘love plant’ in the Bible (Genesis and Songs of Songs).

In classical Arabic, the word luffah (لفّاح) designated both the eggplant and the mandrake. Medieval Arabic sources also called the eggplant badhinjan, a name we still use today. It is said to have originally been beidh al-jinn بيض الجن), that is 'eggs of demons', which may be linked to the ancient Assyrian name pillu 'egg', mentioned above.

In the medieval Arab-Islamic world, the eggplant was the least favorite vegetable among their physicians, who unanimously condemned eating it, and the bitterness of the vegetable has a lot to do with this. It was said to generate black bile, cancer, melasma (kalaf), and blockages.

But people ate it and loved it anyway. To gastronomes, it was the most acclaimed and inspiring vegetable. Medieval cookbooks offer a generous number of sumptuous eggplant dishes, the most famous of which were Buraniyyat named after Buran (d. 884), wife of Abbasid Caliph al-Ma’moun. Poetically, it was pictured as a black pigeon nesting in a vibrantly green orchard, with its emerald beak picking up sesame seeds and entrusting them in their ambergris gizzards.

Here are some verses by the famous tenth-century Abbasid gourmet poet Kushajim (in Kitab al-Tabeekh by al-Warraq, Chapter 45, my translation):

وللباذنج في الافواه طعم        كطعم الريق جاد به الحبيب
جمان ضمّه سبح عليه          زبرجدة تضمّنها قضيب
تميّز طعمه من كل طعم     فمعجله ومنضجه يطيب
وتاقت انفس الظرفاء طرّاً      اليه لانه شيء عجيب
فليس يعافه الاّ عيّ     وليس يحبّه إلاّ أريب

Eggplant has a taste like saliva a generous lover offers.            
A pearl in a black gown, with an emerald set on it, from which a stem extends.
In taste, ‘tis like no other, whether hurriedly cooked or done well.
Yearning for this little wonder, the witty in hosts hasten to it.
Fools only have no appetite for it. As for the smart, they just love it.

Eggplant illustrated in 14th-century Tacuinum Sanitatus, based on Taquim al-Sihha (تقويم الصحة) by Ibn Butlan, 11th-century Arab Christian physician from Baghdad  



To lessen the harms of eggplant, the medieval physician al-Razi (d. 923) for instance, recommended parboiling it before incorporating it into the dishes, as this would get rid of most of its harmful stuff. The best way for cooking it after this initial step was frying it in light oils such as almond oil or sesame oil. He also recommended peeling and slashing the eggplant then stuffing it with salt and soaking it in cold water for a while, before using it. Grilling was not recommended because it would not rid the eggplant of its bitter, hot, and sharp taste. This explains the absence of recipes for grilled eggplant in extant medieval sources. The closest recipe we have to our modern baba ghannouj was a 13th-century Buran dish, in which fried eggplant was mashed and mixed with garlic, coriander seeds, salt, and yogurt (in Kitab al-Tabeekh by al-Baghdadi).

In Iraq today eggplant is a summer crop, which though quite popular, is still maligned, such as when people lose their temper, they put the blame on eating eggplant; or cautioning distressed people against eating it; otherwise it will cause hives.


But see this article for modern day views on eggplants (and more recipes).


Eggplant illustrated in 14th-century Tacuinum Sanitatus, see above caption

Here is how to prepare the eggplant to make sandwiches with it:


Fried Eggplant
بيتنجان مقلي
(Betinjan Maqli)

(Makes 5 to 6 servings)

Eggplant slices simply fried in oil can get quite oily. To prevent them from soaking up oil like a sponge, sprinkle the slices with a little flour before frying them as this will help block most of the pores. Our medieval ancestors used to do the same thing.
           
1 large eggplant (about 1½ lb)
About ¾ cup flour for coating
Oil for frying

For assembling sandwiches:
2 tomatoes, sliced
1 garlic clove, grated
¼ teaspoon chili pepper
¼ cup chopped parsley
2 tablespoons lemon juice, or vinegar
½ cup drained yogurt (aka. Greek yogurt), optional

1. Cut off stem of eggplant, and peel it lengthwise to give it a striped look. Cut it into 2 parts crosswise, and then cut each part into ¼ in-thick slices lengthwise.

2. Soak pieces in salted warm water and top with a plate to keep them submerged. Set aside for 30 minutes. Soaking the eggplant in this way will prevent it from absorbing lots of oil while frying.

3. Drain eggplant pieces, and coat them with flour on all sides. Fry pieces in ½ in-deep oil until golden brown, turning once,  about 7 minutes. Drain on a rack or in a colander to prevent fried pieces from getting soggy.

4.  Brown tomato slices in a small amount of oil. Or use them raw.    

5. Arrange eggplant pieces on a big platter in one layer. Arrange tomato slices on top. Sprinkle them with garlic, chili pepper, parsley, and lemon juice or vinegar. Dot with drained yogurt if wished.

Serve the arranged platter as a side dish by itself, or make into sandwiches by filling a piece of bread with some of the layered vegetables.




Breaded Eggplant

(Makes 5 to 6 servings)

As in the previous recipe, this way of preparing and frying the eggplant yields crispy pieces, with the minimum amount of oil absorbed. In the 13th-century Andalusian cookbook Anwa’ al-Saydala (p.145), slices of eggplant were parboiled in salted water first, left to drain, and then dipped in a batter composed of white flour, eggs, black pepper, coriander, saffron, and a small amount of murri (fermented sauce, similar to soy sauce); and fried 

1 large eggplant(about 1½ lb)
2 eggs, beaten
1¼ cups breadcrumbs seasoned with ½ teaspoon salt, ¼ teaspoon black pepper, and ¼ teaspoon garlic powder (optional)

Oil for frying
For garnish:
¼ cup parsley chopped
1 medium tomato, thinly sliced
Fresh hot chilies, or any kind of pepper
          
1. Cut off stem of eggplant, and peel it lengthwise to give it a striped look. Cut it into 2 parts crosswise, and then cut each part into ¼ in-thick slices lengthwise.

2. Soak pieces in salted warm water and top with a plate to keep them submerged. Set aside for 30 minutes. 

3. Drain eggplant pieces, and dip each in beaten eggs, then coat with seasoned breadcrumbs. When both sides are well coated, press each piece down against the crumbs in the plate with your palm, and then turn it and press down on the other side.

4. Fry pieces in ½ in-deep oil on high to medium-high heat until golden brown, turning only once, about 5 minutes. Drain fried pieces on a rack or a colander to keep them crisp.

5. Arrange pieces on a platter, garnished with parsley, sliced tomato, and pepper slices. Serve as a side dish or make into sandwiches, as described above.