There is something about making a dish completely from scratch that is wonderfully satisfying — a feeling of merited accomplishment. A mixture of happiness and relief. I’m sure this is true of most things, really, not just food. It comes with any craft you can pour your soul into. With food, you appreciate individual ingredients; you savor every ounce of effort that goes into preparing a dish. Something magical happens in the cooking process; a part of you, your essence, probably while you’re mixing ingredients and not particularly paying attention, dives into the bowl and adds that special something to the dish: warmth, brightness, love, something you can’t really put your finger on, but everyone knows it’s there. It’s what the French refer to as je ne sais quoi.

It’s been a while since I posted a recipe here. Partly because it’s not easy converting my aunt’s dashes and handfuls into teaspoons and cups, but also because my aunt does most of her cooking early in the morning, before the sun or I are even up.

In Syria, particularly Aleppo, wintertime means it’s time for sujuk, an Armenian sausage made with beef, lots of garlic and a mix of aromatic spices. Sujuk is bold; it’s a stick-to-your-ribs kind of sausage. And when it gets cold out, it’s what my heart and stomach crave. Yes, sujuk is pretty fantastic.

In Aleppo you can find sujuk all over the place. This is one of the culinary gems the Armenian community brought with them when they moved to Syria. One of my favorite places to eat sujuk outside of home is Shtoura. Shtoura, named after the Lebanese town, is a 24-hour fatayer place famous for their heavenly dough creations. I’ve become a regular.

shtoura (شتورة) at 11:11pm

Nothing is better late at night than a couple Shtoura palm-sized pizzas topped with classic tomato sauce, liberal amounts of shredded mozzarella, and dotted with nuggets of spicy sujuk.

pizza sujuk

My aunt, luckily for me, makes her own sujuk at home. And to my surprise, it’s pretty simple, and actually borders on effortless. It’s a matter of combining a blend of spices with meat and allowing the mixture to air-dry in a cool place, away from any sunlight. Prep-time is no more than 15 minutes, tops. No sausage casings or fancy equipment necessary; my aunt stitches her own bags from scraps of cloth that are clean and have not been treated with scented detergent.

mise en place

lots of garlic

spices: fenugreek, allspice, cumin, paprika, salt

After asking a few of my Armenian friends in Aleppo, I’ve discovered that it is not common to add ground fenugreek to sujuk. If you can’t find fenugreek, you can certainly leave it out, however, I like the taste it adds to the sausage.

mix well

bags of sujuk

My aunt uses her balcony to air-dry her sujuk. She moves the rack of sujuk bags depending on the time of day to keep them away from any sunlight. Once the bags feel firm and dry to the touch, the sujuk is ready. This usually takes 3-5 days depending on the weather and the thickness of your sujuk bags.

Once they’re done drying, my aunt and I keep all the bags, except one, in the freezer and bring them down to the fridge as we go through them.

sujuk sandwiches

Sujuk is an extremely versatile sausage that you can eat any number of ways. It’s great over pizza or mixed into pasta sauce. It’s delicious with eggs for breakfast — a different take on the classic sausage and eggs. In Syria and Lebanon, however, it’s popular to make sujuk sandwiches with pita bread. The grease from the sausage melts over the heat and toasts the bread to a pleasant crisp. No extra butter or fat necessary; just good, homemade sujuk.

cheese

old school sandwich press

sandwich

Sparkling lights, lively chatter, crisp air; Eid is the general term for holiday in Arabic. In the days leading to Eid al Adha shops in Aleppo stay open past midnight to meet the demands of eager shoppers rushing to purchase Eid gifts.

Eid al Adha, or the feast of sacrifice, is the holiday that commemorates Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his only son, Ishmael, to God. Before sacrificing his son, God intervenes and allows Abraham to sacrifice a ram instead. Eid al Adha spans four days and begins approximately 70 days after Eid al Fitr, the holiday that celebrates the end of Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting. This year Eid al Adha began on November 16, 2010.

Once Eid al Adha was announced at sunset, shops across Aleppo closed and the streets emptied soon thereafter. This is the time when families gather at home to exchange gifts and try on their new Eid clothes. I walked around Aleppo the first night of Eid with a friend — the silence was uncanny. The streets that were crowded with hasty shoppers the night before were now completely deserted. We occasionally heard cars zoom in the distance or encountered the occasional wanderers, like us, who were enjoying a peaceful stroll along the empty streets.

Eid, day 1

empty streets

The next morning was when the sacrifices began. As a symbol of Abraham’s devotion, Muslim families purchase an animal, traditionally a lamb, to slaughter for the Eid and distribute the meat from the sacrifice to the poor. The animals that are slaughtered for the sacrifice must be done so according to Islamic law. This involves a list of strict rules, including that the animal be ethically executed with as little pain as possible. A prayer is recited by the butcher. If done properly, the animals waiting their turn should not witness the slaughters or see any of the blood from the act.

Most of the slaughters during Eid take place early in the morning and continue throughout the day depending on the demand for meat. While my friend and I waited for a slaughter to happen, we met a group of kids playing with a small herd of sheep innocently waiting their fateful destiny.

As soon as the kids spotted me, rather my camera, they yelled out for me to take their picture — half in broken English, half in Arabic, with complementing hand gestures. It was cute. I received a nod of approval from an elder looking over them and proceeded to take their pictures. The kids were elated. After every picture they would run up to me to see how it turned out, tell me how beautiful the picture was, and ask for one more, one more. You could tell from their glowing eyes and big smiles how excited they were for Eid; I couldn’t say no.

Eid festivities

55 kg sheep

After a couple dozen photos or so, they went back to playing with the sheep. I stayed talking with one of the older kids who was eager to tell me everything about Eid. He explained how the sheep are weighed beforehand and are tagged with their corresponding weight. This makes it easier for someone who shows up to purchase one of the sheep as a donation to the less fortunate.

the sacrifice

I liked the fact that the kids were involved in all aspects of the festivities, not just the presents and new clothes. They understood where the meat was coming from. They were connected; they weren’t grossed out or traumatized. This is a healthy dose of food culture at a young age.

Eid, day 2

The remaining days of Eid are less gory, more fun. Slaughters still take place, but a lot less frequently than on the first day. On the second day you will see more families taking a stroll with their kids running around them, playing in their new Eid clothes. I met up with some friends at the Aleppo citadel where everyone was enjoying the sunny afternoon weather. Kids were eating colorful ice cream, running around freely, and enjoying every moment of their vacation. Parents took this time to catch up with friends as they looked over their kids from the sidelines.

ice cream!

mobile drinks

As the sun began to set, my friends and I found a cozy spot by a café alongside the Aleppo citadel, which dates back to the 3rd millenium BC. The air was nippy and soft gusts of winds were gentle reminders that winter is on its way. We sat there, enjoying the beautiful view of the historic castle while sipping hot tea.

tea, with a historic view

said tea

I hope everyone who celebrated had a wonderful Eid — Adha Mubarak w 3a2bel kil sineh.

Adha Mubarak!

Disclaimer: If you are squeamish about meat, this post is probably not for you.

A few weeks ago I made my first trip to an authentic butcher shop. The real deal; the kind with massive meat carcasses hanging in a cooler and a collection of knives that look like they belong in the set of a horror film. It was awesome (in the culinary sense); a-kid-in-a-candy-store experience. I had my DSLR around my neck and a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

my first visit

On my first trip to the butcher I tagged along with my grandmother’s sister (aunt, from here on out) and our neighbor. Before we left the house, my aunt made a phone call to Yasser, the butcher, to let him know we’re on our way. The phone call was short and ordinary; the kind you would have with a good friend or relative to let them know you’ll be swinging by later.

Our neighbor met us downstairs and the three of us got into a taxi and headed to the Meedan distric of Aleppo (approximately a 5-minute cab ride from where we live). On the ride there my aunt explained to me how Yasser has been the family butcher for the past ten years. Yasser, she said, used to have his shop down the street from where she lived until he relocated to the Meedan district about three years ago. She reminisced about the days when she used to walk a few steps to his shop from her apartment. Despite the number of butchers that surround her neighborhood, she told me almost all of Yasser’s customers followed him to the Meedan district and, to this day, continue to buy their meat from him.

Once we reached the center of the Meedan district, my aunt began to guide the driver through a maze of narrow roads called haras (حارة). These are roads that have been preserved from the olden days, before there were cars. Taxi drivers here are experts at swooshing through these slim passages. After a couple of these turns, my aunt signaled the driver to stop.

We made it.

As the taxi driver disappeared into the distance, I walked onto the sidewalk and followed my aunt and our neighbor into the butcher shop. The shop is small, maybe the size of a two-car garage, but not bigger. Yasser and his assistant, Ismail, looked up from their work and greeted us like family.

meet Yasser, our amazing butcher

sharp knife is key

attention to detail

There were two ladies sitting by the entrance as we walked in, waiting for their meat. Nothing here is pre-ground or pre-sliced, Yasser explained. All the meat is prepared to order. Yasser is not only a seasoned butcher, but also knows a lot about cooking, too. Take ground beef, for instance; depending on what you want to prepare, Yasser knows how many times to pass the meat through the meat grinder and how much fat to grind with the meat. He’s amazing.

freshly ground meat

fat cubes to skewer between kababs

here to help

nothing goes to waste

Now that I learned the way to Yasser’s shop, I’ve become a regular. Whenever I go, I am welcomed like family. Yasser and Ismail offer me coffee and tea and ask me about my research and stay in Aleppo. They’ve already invited me to their slaughterhouse, if I’m interested, but that will have to be for another blog post.

The reason I decided to write about my trip to the butcher is not to gross people out or have PETA boycott my website. Quite the opposite. This trip to Yasser’s shop shows an important, and often overlooked, aspect of cooking. It reflects the connection that locals have to their food and where it comes from. More importantly, it highlights the foundation of a rich food culture that is built on quality ingredients and positive relationships.

Note: I have a backlog of blog entries that I plan to post real, real soon. Thank you for all the wonderful emails and comments on my blog. I’m having an amazing time in Syria and I’m glad I have the opportunity to share it with everyone through my blog. If you would like to follow me through other channels, I post photos and updates regularly on my Facebook page and Twitter.

I’ve had an incredible start to my Fulbright in Syria. It’s been almost two weeks since I arrived — a perfect time for a quick update.

My flight landed in Aleppo on Saturday night, around midnight. After 28 hours of traveling, door to door, I arrived at my grandmother’s sister’s house in Aleppo. Like a true Halabiye (Aleppan) she had a delicious spread of mezze laid out as soon as I walked through the door: muhammara (محمّرة), olives, pickles, homemade mortadella, hummus (حمص), labne (لبنة), zeit w za’atar (زيت و زعتر); I slept like a baby that night.

meet my grandmother’s sister

I spent my first few days doing administrative things: I got a cell phone, registered at the University of Aleppo, exchanged currency. I took a bus down to Damascus to meet with the other Fulbrighters as well as the Fulbright committee here in Syria. We were all invited to dinner at a restaurant called Marmara where we got to meet the Syrian Fulbright students who are getting ready to study abroad in the US.

University of Aleppo, College of Literature and Humanities

I think I’ve already gained five pounds since I’ve arrived. It’s hard not to. Everyday I come across new recipes that I want to blog about. I walk as much as I could and take the stairs whenever possible. My grandmother’s sister, bless her heart, pulled me aside the other day and asked whether I had a phobia of riding the elevator. I told her I take the stairs so that I can eat more of her delicious food. I’m sure she will hold me up to this for the next nine months that I’m here.

why I walk and take the stairs

The picture above is from a lunch I recently had at a friend’s house. The star of the meal was the traditional meat pizzas called lahm bil ajin (لحمة بالعجي). I will have to dedicate a complete blog post to these pizzas. They’re incredibly delicious and are an important part of Aleppo’s cuisine. There are small bakeries in Aleppo where you can prepare your own meat mixture, and the bakery will make dough and form all the pizzas for you. My friend’s mom prepared her meat mixture in the morning and sent my friend and I later that afternoon to pick up the prepared pizzas from the bakery. I posted a few photos from the bakery to my flickr.

Last Friday my grandmother’s sister prepared mujaddara for lunch. Mujaddara is a simple, but traditional Middle Eastern dish of rice and lentils. Some families make it with bulgur wheat, and in Egypt they add noodles to the rice and lentils, and serve it with a spicy tomato-based sauce. Egyptians call this dish Kosheri (كشري).

The same day I had mujaddara at my grandmother’s sister’s house, I visited two friends, and both their families had also made mujaddara for lunch. For families that abstain from eating meat on Friday’s, mujaddara is a quick and healthy vegetarian meal for the family.

I had photographed mujaddara before I left the States, but never got around to posting the photos on my blog. These photos are from then.

mise en place

cover lentils with water

the more onions, the better

fried onions

Usually people will not fry the onions in extra virgin olive oil because it has a low smoking point. I prefer the taste of olive oil, so I take extra time to cook the onions over low heat for a long time until they become crisp. If you’re in a rush you can use canola oil or any relatively flavorless oil that has a higher smoking point.

cooked lentils

rice

Mujaddara (مجدّرة)

Pickles are traditionally served with the mujaddara. Saha w hana — bon appetit!

Disclaimer: The opinions I express in this blog are my own and do not reflect those of the Fulbright program.

Thank you for all the wonderful emails and congratulatory comments on my Fulbright post. I have a feeling this is going to be an incredible culinary journey that I hope we can take together — you and me, traveling through Syria. It’s going to be awesome. Just be sure to bring a hearty appetite (and definitely a pair of loose-fitted pants).

A few readers asked whether I will keep this blog or start a new one. My plan is to continue blogging here and tag my upcoming posts with a Fulbright tag for easy reference. Before I go abroad, however, since I can’t cook a huge dinner to thank everyone for their amazing support, although this is what my grandmother would insist on, I decided to give away my mamoul mold instead; my small way of saying thank you. This is the same mold I used for these mini mamoul cookies a while back.

To enter in the drawing, simply leave a comment about your latest, favorite recipe. This is the theme of today’s post. On September 15, before I fly to Syria, I will randomly select one commenter from this post and ship the mold to them, anywhere around the world.

traditional mamoul mold giveaway

Even though I should probably be packing right now, I would feel terrible if I didn’t tell you about this delicious granola I’ve been making. I’ve tweeted about it a few times, and last night I made my third batch in less than a week. It’s so good, it makes me happy just writing about it.

I got this idea from Molly (via Twitter) after I posted a tweet about how much I love snacking on dates and almonds. She suggested I make a date and almond granola. I thought it was brilliant, so here I am, ready to pass on this gem of a recipe.

mise en place

The original recipe comes from Epicurious, but I added my own Middle Eastern spin to it. I replaced the cashews with Aleppo pistachios (فستق حلبي) that I have in my freezer from a previous trip to Syria, and added a splash of orange blossom water to the mix. For my friends who are fasting during Ramadan right now, I think this would be a great recipe to prepare ahead of time for Suhoor (سحور). Suhoor is the meal that is consumed by Muslims at dawn, before fasting in daylight hours during the month of Ramadan. It is traditional to start Suhoor by eating dates as they are incredibly rich sources of energy and vitamins that help keep the body nourished throughout the day.

dates + almonds

Chopping the dates and almonds is the only prep work necessary to make this granola. The rest is mixing ingredients together and baking them in the oven. This is part the recipe’s appeal.

dry ingredients

The dates get added later, half-way into the baking process.

honey, butter, orange blossom water

ready to bake

date and almond granola

Although the granola is good on its own, my favorite way to enjoy it is sprinkled over a bowl of vanilla yogurt. The combination is heavenly. Enjoy!

best with yogurt