Lamb

This rich Tunisian pie makes an interesting main dish.

Meat pies are traditionally little triangles. The classic Arab filling is called tatbila. In Turkey, where these are called börek, they use the thicker kind of fillo pastry for them. If your sheets are too thin and look likely to tear, use 2 strips together and brush with melted butter or oil in between.

A central part of every grand Arab feast is lamb—shoulder or leg—cooked à la cuillère (to such tenderness that you can eat it “with a spoon”), accompanied by rice with ground meat and nuts. This recipe comes from the caterer Nazira Bitar, who is the queen of wedding cakes all over the Arab world. She prepared a banquet in Stockholm that was hosted by the King of Jordan for King Carl Gustav and Queen Silvia.

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

Look for the frozen artichoke bottoms—a flat cup variety from Egypt—in Middle Eastern stores. There are about 9 in a 14-ounce package. Serve the dish hot with Vermicelli Rice (page 304).

This makes a satisfying homely meal and is especially good when served with Vermicelli Rice (see page 304).

This is truly exquisite. Quinces are now available for quite a long period in Middle Eastern and Asian stores. In this recipe, the fruits are stuffed with a meat filling and served hot. Quinces are hard and take a long time to cook in the oven before you can cut them up and stuff them, but you can do this in advance—even the day before. I used very large quinces because those were the ones available at the time, but you can use 4 smaller ones, in which case the baking time will be less. Serve hot with rice pilaf (page 193) or rice with chickpeas (Variation page 193).

These eggplants stuffed with ground meat—their name, karniyarik, means “slashed belly”—are served as a hot main dish with rice pilaf (page 193). Use a good-quality tomato juice.

This dish can be made with lamb shanks, knuckle of veal (osso buco), or with cubed meat such as shoulder of lamb. Butchers sell fresh lamb shanks from the foreleg weighing about 10 ounces and frozen ones from New Zealand from the back leg weighing from 14 to 16 ounces. Lamb shanks cooked for a long time have a wonderful tenderness and texture without being stringy, and they produce a rich stock. Although they take a long time to cook, they don’t need any attention. The sauce is the classic Turkish egg and lemon terbiyeli sauce.

One legend surrounding the name of the sauce, hünkâr beğendi, which means “Her Majesty’s delight,” places it in 1869 when the Sultan Abdul Aziz entertained Empress Eugénie (my Istanbul grandmother was named after her), wife of Napoleon III, in his white rococo palace of Beylerbey on the Asian side of the Bosphorus. The empress was so enchanted by the pale, creamy, eggplant purée that she asked for the recipe to be given to her cooks. The sultan’s cook explained that he could not pass on the recipe because he “cooked with his eyes and his nose.” In Turkey, they use mature kasar, a hard yellow cheese, or Gruyère in the sauce, but mature Cheddar can be used too. Serve it with rice pilaf (page 193).

This is a dish you can prepare well in advance. In Turkey, they may add a little grape molasses called pekmez, which you can buy in Turkish stores, but, for me, the dish is sweet enough as it is with the onions, chestnuts, and sugar. Serve it hot with plain rice or rice with chickpeas (see Variation page 193).

This is a mainstay of Turkish kebab houses, where it is often dramatically served in a dish with a dome-shaped copper lid, the type that was once used at the sultan’s palace. I serve it in a large, round, clay dish, which can be warmed in the oven. This is a multilayered extravaganza. There is toasted pita bread at the bottom with tomato sauce poured over. This is topped with yogurt and sprinkled with fried pine nuts. Grilled ground meat kebabs or shish kebab (see above), or both, are laid on top. It requires organization and must be assembled at the last minute as the pita should remain a little crisp. The tomato sauce and meat should be very hot while the yogurt should be at room temperature.

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.

These individual pies are tasty, elegant, and very easy to prepare. They make a perfect light meal, accompanied by a salad.

Traditionally, the Berbers first made couscous with barley, and barley couscous is still very popular, especially in the south of Morocco. It is now available in precooked form from some Middle Eastern stores. You can substitute ordinary couscous. You can make the broth with lamb, beef, or veal (preferably shoulder, neck fillet, or knuckle) and with a choice of vegetables. According to local lore, seven is a magic number that brings good luck. Onions, tomatoes, and chili peppers count as flavorings, so you must have seven more vegetables. I have listed eight, so drop one. The number of ingredients makes it seem a scary endeavor, but it is only a matter of throwing things into a pot, and it makes a spectacular one-dish meal for a large party. You will need a very big pot.

This is the best-known fruit tagine outside Morocco. Restaurants in Paris accompany it with couscous seffa made with fine-ground couscous (see page 28) with plenty of butter, one bowl of boiled chickpeas, and another of stewed raisins. The best prunes to use are the moist Californian ones, which are already pitted.

In an Arab culture born in the desert, dates have something of a sacred character. Considered the “bread of the desert,” they symbolize hospitality and are much loved and prestigious. You would find this dish at wedding parties. Some people find it too sweet, so you might prefer it, as I do, without the optional honey. The dates give it a slightly sticky texture. Use the semi-dried moist varieties from California or the Deglet Nour dates from Tunisia.

This is a recipe that is similar to the chicken tagine on page 93, but the result is quite different. The sweetness of the pears goes surprisingly well with the lamb. Choose firm pears; if the fruit is too soft, they tend to collapse during the cooking. Comice and Bosc are good varieties. Use a boned shoulder of lamb or neck fillets, and trim only some—not all—of the fat.

In Morocco, men are masters of the fire, in charge of the brochettes, the small kebabs threaded on little wood or metal skewers, which are traditional street food. The ground meat kebabs are deliciously aromatic—full of fresh herbs and spices. The meat is usually pressed around skewers and cooked over dying embers, but it is easier simply to pat the meat into sausage or burger shapes and cook them under the broiler or on a griddle. There should be a good amount of fat (it melts away under the fierce heat), enough to keep the meat moist and soft. Otherwise, work 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil into the paste. Bite-size keftas can be served as appetizers at a party, but en famille burger-size ones, accompanied by a salad, represent a main dish.

This is sumptuous and extremely easy. The meat is cooked very slowly for a long time until it is meltingly tender and you can pull the meat off the bones with your fingers. The stuffing—it is the traditional stuffing for a whole lamb—is sweet with dates and raisins and crunchy with almonds. (In Morocco, they add sugar or honey but that makes it too sweet for me.) The couscous needs plenty of butter as there is no sauce, but you can substitute oil if you prefer. Try to get the fine-ground variety of couscous called seffa (see page 28), otherwise use the ordinary medium-ground one. For the dates, use the Tunisian Deglet Nour or Californian varieties that you can find in supermarkets. A shoulder of spring lamb is always fatty but most of the fat melts away during the long cooking. If it appears too fatty, as might be the case with an older lamb, carefully remove some of the fat before cooking.

Harira is the generic term for a soup full of pulses—chickpeas, lentils, or beans—with little meat, few vegetables, and plenty of herbs and spices. Every day during the holy month of Ramadan, when Muslims fast between sunrise and sunset, the smell of this soup permeates the streets as every household prepares its own version to be eaten when the sound of the cannon signals the breaking of the fast. While ingredients and spices vary, a particular feature is the way it is given what is described in Morocco as a “velvety” touch by stirring in a sourdough batter or simply flour mixed with water. In the cities in Morocco, it serves as a one-dish evening meal, and in rural areas it is also eaten as breakfast before peasants go out to work in the fields. During Ramadan, it is served with lemon quarters and accompanied by dates and honeyed pastries. The soup can be made a long time in advance, but if you are adding the tiny bird’s-tongue pasta—douida in Morocco (you find it in Middle Eastern stores), orzo in Italian stores (or you can use broken vermicelli)—these should be added only about 10 to 15 minutes before you are ready to serve, otherwise they will get bloated and mushy. I have given measurements for a large quantity because it is a rich, substantial soup that you might like to serve as a one-dish meal at a party. The best cuts of meat to use are shoulder or neck fillet.

In Morocco, these briwat bil kefta are made with warka (see page 29) and deep-fried, but it is not only much easier to use fillo and to bake them, but the result is very good. See the note on fillo on page 9. I used sheets measuring about 6 inches × 12 inches. It is very good finger food to serve at a party.