The Language of Baklava by Diana Abu-Jaber with Recipe for Jordanian Kofta and Yogurt Sauce (Ιορδανικό Γιαουρτλού Kεμπάπ)

Diana Abu-Jaber grew up in the environs of Syracuse, New York during the 1960s and 1970s. She shares the dominant cultural references of all Americans her age. Her mother and influential maternal grandmother are Americans, their distant heritage “Irish, German, maybe Swiss?”

Abu-Jaber’s father is from Jordan; his heritage Bedouin and Palestinian. His large, loud, exuberant family, many of whom lived in or near Syracuse, was a constant in Abu-Jaber’s life. At home and in her lunchbox, Abu-Jaber ate Middle Eastern food. This food and her Arabic name, so unlike her pale skin and murky green eyes, set her apart from her schoolmates.

When Abu-Jaber was in grade school, her family moved to Jordan. In Jordan, it was her pale skin that set her apart. The smells and sounds and experiences of life in a crowded Middle Eastern city woke up senses Abu-Jaber hadn’t known in America. Just as her heart began to beat with the rhythm of Jordanian life, Abu-Jaber’s family moved back to America.

“America is a cold breeze that snaps us awake … We’ve left Jordan, with its lush winds, dust, and sun-stained air. When I wake in a hotel bed on the first morning back in America, I’m dazed by a blankness around me: the sleekly painted walls, the air slack without the scents of mint, olive, and jasmine, and an immobilizing silence. I close my eyes and conjure the songbirds Mrs. Haddadin kept in a gold cage hanging from a tree branch; the wobble of Munira’s singing as she dashed a broom through the courtyard. … We’ve returned to Syracuse, to a split-level house that does not have another family living in the upstairs apartment or a communal courtyard or thick hedges of mint.”

In her 2005 memoir, The Language of Baklava, Abu-Jaber describes her rootless journey to adulthood. She struggles to connect with her American and Jordanian cultures, often standing as an outsider to both.

Abu-Jaber grew up in a family of storytellers: “To me, the truth of stories lies not in their factual precision, but in their emotional core. Most of the events in this book are honed and altered in some fashion, to give them the curve of stories. Lives don’t usually correspond to narrative arcs, but all these stories spring out of real people, memories, and joyously gathered and prepared meals.”

The essential truths and complexities of Abu-Jaber’s relationships to her family and twin cultures, as revealed through her stories, are captivatingly real. By book's end, we understand Abu-Jaber’s American and Jordanian heritages are inseparably bound in her heart and soul.

In telling her family's stories, Abu-Jaber reveals universal truths about the immigrant experience in America. Like millions upon millions of immigrants who've given strength and diversity to their adopted homeland, Abu-Jaber’s family, many of whom are Arab and some of whom are Muslim, is inextricably woven into the fabric that makes up America. None of these immigrants, or their descendants, can be categorically ejected or rejected without leaving an irreparable hole.

In other words, there is no “us” and there is no “them.” As Abu-Jaber wrote in the Washington Post, “The world is a place of nuance, flux, hardship and complexity: We all live together in it. The real safety will come from learning how to live together better, not from trying to push others out.”

For me, Abu-Jaber’s book had special resonance. The Language of Baklava is, in many ways, a love letter to Abu-Jaber’s father. I began reading it in a nursing home, by the bedside of my ill father who, briefly and terrifyingly, didn’t recognize me. The veil of sadness through which I read The Language of Baklava made its message of paternal love particularly poignant.

I returned home from visiting my father emotionally drained. That night, I cooked some of Abu-Jaber’s recipes for my husband. As we greedily piled our plates with Jordanian Kofta and garlicky Yogurt Sauce, I experienced anew the relationship between food and love that inspired The Language of Baklava.

Jordanian Kofta and Yogurt Sauce (Ιορδανικό Γιαουρτλού Kεμπάπ)
Serves 4 as a meal or more as an appetizer
Adapted from The Language of Baklava by Diana Abu-Jaber
These taste best when cooked over a grill (in winter, we grill in our fireplace), but can also be made on a stovetop grill pan. To serve as an appetizer, make smaller kebabs by dividing the meat into 16 equal pieces rather than 8. Serve with Tomato, Cucumber, and Onion Salad, feta cheese, Kalamata olives, and warm pita bread.

Sausage:
1 pound ground lamb or beef
1 egg
1 cup finely diced onion, 1/8”dice
2 Tbsp. minced fresh parsley
2 tsp. ground turmeric
1 tsp. freshly crushed cumin
1 tsp. chile powder, preferably Ancho
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. ground allspice
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Bamboo skewers

Yogurt Sauce:
3 cloves garlic
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/2 cups plain yogurt, preferably whole milk
1/4 – 1/3 cup fresh lemon juice

Make the Sausage: Put all the sausage ingredients in a bowl, and knead everything together with your hands. Divide the seasoned meat into 8 equal pieces. Roll each piece of meat around a bamboo skewer into a long sausage shape. Refrigerate until you’re ready to cook the Kofta. (The recipe may be made ahead to this point.)

Make the Yogurt Sauce: Purée the garlic and salt with the flat of a chef's knife or using a mortar and pestle. Mix the garlic purée with the yogurt and 1/4 cup lemon juice. Taste and add salt or the remaining lemon juice, as needed.

Cook the Sausages: Grill over a hot fire, turning regularly, and being careful not to overcook. Serve immediately, the hotter the better, with a generous dollop of Yogurt Sauce on the side.

To cook on the stove, heat a cast iron grill pan until it’s very hot, cook the sausages until they are well-browned on one side, turn them over, immediately turn down the heat, and cook until they are done on the other side. Serve immediately.
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This is my entry for Cook the Books Club, founded by Rachel at The Crispy Cook, Ioanna from Food Junkie, Not Junk Food, and Deb from Kahakai Kitchen. Cook the Books is an online book club; this month’s selection is The Language of Baklava by Diana Abu-Jaber.

Recipes for Sausage and Lentils with Spiced Figs & Crostini with Gorgonzola and Spiced Figs

It’s nearly August and the peas are just coming into bloom. Usually, we’d've been eating them for weeks, but this year the weather has been unseasonably cold and rainy. The local newspaper is referring to it as “the so-called summer of ‘08.”

Blame it on La Niña. When the ocean off Peru is 2 to 4 degrees lower than normal, as it has been this year, the “La Niña” weather pattern brings cool weather to Alaska.

Most food sold here comes from “outside,” the Alaska word for the world beyond our state. Walking through supermarket produce sections, full to the gunnels with summer fruits and vegetables, it’s clear that outsiders are enjoying summer weather.

Last week Costco had pallet-loads of fresh fruit from California, including the first figs of the season to arrive in Alaska. I’m a sucker for figs, and these were in perfect condition.

We ate them plain, stuffed with cheese, and wrapped in prosciutto. But with the final six figs, in honor of our “so-called summer,” I wanted to make something warming.

Time to pull out one of the recipes on my “must try someday” list: Sausages and Lentils with Spiced Figs from Diana Henry’s book Crazy Water, Pickled Lemons.

The combination of sausages, lentils, and spiced figs was wonderful. Even my husband, who typically doesn’t like fruit and meat together, thought the figs added terrific flavor to the dish. It was one of those meals where I actively enjoyed every bite.

The recipe made more figs than we could eat in one meal. The leftovers were a fortuitous kitchen bonus that I used to make Crostini with Gorgonzola and Spiced Figs.

The piquant flavor of blue cheese blended seamlessly with the spiced figs. It was so good I want always to keep a jar of spiced figs in the refrigerator for quick and easy last-minute appetizers. Each bite was a flavor revelation.

Sausages and Lentils with Spiced Figs
Serves 4
Adapted from Crazy Water, Pickled Lemons: Enchanting Dishes from the Middle East, Mediterranean and North Africa by Diana Henry (Mitchell Beazley 2002)
Spiced figs enhance the flavors of earthy lentils and succulent sausage. Be sure to serve the figs in a bowl on the side, so diners can eat as many or as few as they like. Although I modified Diana’s sausage and lentil recipe for our palates (the below recipe is as modified), I followed her directions for the spiced figs. They were delicious, though next time I’ll simplify the recipe by using equal quantities of red and balsamic vinegars; sherry vinegar’s flavor is lost in the mix. Not all figs need to be peeled; I peel only when the fig skins are beat-up or unusually thick.

Spiced Figs:
12 – 15 fresh figs
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup sherry vinegar
1/2 cup sugar
1 cinnamon stick

Sausages and Lentils:
3 pieces thick-cut bacon
4 bratwurst or other fresh pork sausages
2 cups diced onions (1/2” dice)
1/2 cup diced carrots (1/4” dice)
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 cup small lentils, such as Puy or beluga
1 Tbsp. minced fresh garlic
1 Tbsp. minced fresh rosemary
1 cup white wine
3 - 4 cups chicken stock

Make the Spiced Figs: Peel the figs, if necessary, and cut them in half. Mix the vinegars, sugar, and cinnamon stick in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Turn the heat to medium-low and simmer for 5 minutes. Add the figs, cut side down and simmer for 5 minutes. Turn off the heat, turn the figs over, and let them cool in the saucepan.

Make the Sausages and Lentils: Cut the bacon into thin, cross-cut strips. In a large pot, cook the bacon until it’s crispy. Remove the bacon pieces with a slotted spoon and let drain on paper towels. Brown the sausages on all sides (there’s no need to cook them through) and remove to a plate.

In the same pan, sauté the onions and carrots, lightly seasoned with salt and freshly ground black pepper, in the bacon fat, being sure to scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. When the onions soften and start to turn golden, stir in the lentils, garlic, and rosemary and cook for 1 minute. Add the wine, 3 cups chicken stock, bacon, sausages, salt and freshly ground black pepper, and bring to a boil. Turn down the heat to medium-low and simmer for 30 – 45 minutes or until the lentils are tender but not mushy. If the lentils dry out as they cook, add the remaining stock. When the lentils are done, taste and add salt or freshly ground black pepper, as needed.

Serve immediately with the spiced figs in a bowl on the side.

Crostini with Gorgonzola and Spiced Figs
If you keep spiced figs as a refrigerator staple, this appetizer can be quickly put together for 2 or 20.

Thinly sliced artisan-style bread
Gorgonzola or other blue cheese
Spiced figs (see above recipe)

Lightly toast the bread and cut into 2" pieces. Spread it with gorgonzola. Top with a piece of spiced fig.
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This is my entry for My Legume Love Affair: Second Helping, an event created and hosted by Susan from The Well-Seasoned Cook. The deadline for legume entries is August 24.

Recipe: Stuffed Pork Tenderloin with Chorizo, Spinach, Lemon, and Pancetta & Chorizo and Spinach Pilaf

I hit the Taste and Create mother lode this month.

Taste and Create is an event organized by For the Love of Food. In this event, food writers are paired with a randomly assigned partner, and asked to cook and review one recipe from their partner’s blog.

Taking part in Taste and Create can be a challenge. Participants come from very different backgrounds and have widely divergent interests. But the commitment you make when signing up for Taste and Create is to cook from your partner’s blog, whether or not their recipes are ones you’d otherwise make.

I like Taste and Create for the same reason I liked grab bags as a kid; you never know what you’ll get until you open the bag.

This month, Abby at Eat the Right Stuff is my Taste and Create partner. The recipes on her blog, which was new to me, are wonderful; I wanted to make them all. The ingredients and seasonings she uses are the ones I love most. Abby’s writing is easy to understand and her photographs inspirational. Like I said, I hit the mother lode.

As soon as I read the description “pork stuffed with pork wrapped with pork,” I had to make Abby’s recipe for Stuffed Pork Tenderloin. As Abby promised, the caramelized onion, chorizo, lemon, and spinach stuffing was fabulous, and the accompanying rice worth making on its own.

I did have to deal with the typical vagaries and ingredient difficulties that always exist when making a recipe created in another country. For example, the recipe calls for “2 picante (hot) chorizo sausages.” I don't know about London (where Abby lives), but in the US, chorizo comes in many sizes and forms, including fresh and dry-cured, and is imported from many different countries.

I ultimately decided the stuffing would be good with any of the multitude of available chorizos. I ended up using a dry-cured chorizo seasoned with hot smoked paprika made in Spain by Palacios (and bought at Sagaya in Anchorage). For those who don’t have access to chorizo, hot Italian sausage would be a good substitute.

Spicy chorizo, earthy spinach, and bright-flavored lemon combine to make a delicious stuffing for mild-flavored pork tenderloin. The pork is finished with a crispy pancetta wrapping and served on a bed of surprisingly good Chorizo and Spinach Pilaf.

Photograph by Abby at Eat the Right Stuff

Stuffed Pork Tenderloin with Chorizo, Spinach, Lemon, and Pancetta & Chorizo and Spinach Pilaf
Serves 4 - 6
Adapted from Eat the Right Stuff
If you can’t find chorizo, substitute your favorite salami or fresh hot Italian sausage.

1 pork tenderloin (1 – 1 1/4 pounds)
1 8-ounce dry-cured hot chorizo sausage
1 1/2 cups diced yellow onion, 1/4” dice
1 Tbsp. olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
9 ounces cleaned and roughly chopped spinach, divided
3/4 cup Panko breadcrumbs
2 tsp. finely grated lemon peel
2 Tbsp. lemon juice
16 slices of pancetta (see NOTE)
1 cup long-grain rice
2 cups chicken stock

Preat the oven to 400°F.

Wash the pork and dry it well. Cut the pork in half, lengthwise. Place the pork between two sheets of plastic wrap and pound it with a meat pounder (or rolling pin) to flatten it slightly.

Remove the casing from the chorizo and cut the meat into 1/4” dice.

Sauté the onion, lightly seasoned with salt and freshly ground black pepper, in olive oil until it softens and starts to turn golden. Add the diced chorizo and cook until the onions begin to caramelize. Remove half the onions and chorizo and most of the oil to a bowl and reserve it for making the pilaf.

Add half the spinach to the pan and cook, stirring regularly, until it wilts. Remove from the heat and stir in the breadcrumbs, lemon peel, and lemon juice. Season well with black pepper. Taste and add salt or freshly ground black pepper, as needed.

Line up the slices of pancetta so they are slightly overlapping to form a pancetta rectangle. Top with half the pork tenderloin, then the stuffing, and then the remaining tenderloin. Wrap the pancetta around the tenderoin to fully encase it. Put the roll in a roasting pan, with the pancetta seam side down. Bake for 25-30 minutes or until the pork is cooked through. Remove from the oven and let rest for 5-10 minutes before slicing and serving.

While the tenderloin is roasting, make the pilaf: Put the reserved onion, chorizo, and oil in a pan and heat. When it starts sizzling, add the rice and stir well to coat the grains with oil. Cook for 1 minute, then stir in the stock and bring it to a boil. Cover, turn down the heat to low, and let the rice cook for 20 minutes. When the rice is done, stir in the remaining half of the spinach.

Serve slices of Stuffed Pork Tenderloin with Chorizo, Spinach, Lemon, and Pancetta over a bed of Spinach and Chorizo Pilaf.

NOTE: The pancetta slices must be long enough to wrap all the way around the stuffed tenderloin; this size of pancetta is available only from deli counters and specialty stores in most of the US. Too often, the only readily available pancetta is sold in pre-sliced 3-ounce vacuum-packed plastic bags. These pieces of pancetta aren’t long enough to wrap the tenderloin; if this is the only kind available, buy two 3-ounce bags to make sure there is enough pancetta.