Soup in a tureen

Fayza Hassan goes West to find a traditional Ramadan meal
The stall of a spice trader (1850) in The Book of Spices by Alain Stella (Flammarion, 1998)
Observations of Ramadan Iftars and Suhours -- the main meals consumed during the holy month, the first at sunset and the second before sunrise -- do not immediately reveal the frequent consumption of any typical or traditional fare. In Egypt, most housewives will describe these meals in rather generic terms. A hot liquid to start Iftar is essential, but can vary from a glass of sweet tea, with or without milk, to a plate of clear broth or a more consistent soup. When Ramadan falls in the hot months of summer, khushaf is the staple: a cold compote made of dried fruit and nuts is preferred, but if these ingredients are too expensive, dried dates soaked in milk or simply tinned fruit juice will do.
Most families mention soup (any kind of soup, with or without meat) followed by fuul (sometimes accompanied by hard-boiled eggs), a large salad and pickled vegetables as necessary dishes to enhance the Ramadan spirit, but will insist that the greatest difference during Ramadan is the consumption of kunafa, aish saraya (palace bread), baklava and other Oriental delicacies, which replace fresh fruit for dessert. Although the less affluent recognise the place of fuul (their habitual daily fare) in the tradition, they would much rather break the fast with a meat or poultry dish, "to renew their strength" after the day's deprivation. Rice cooked in fat and a stew of meat and vegetables is definitely a favourite combination for Iftar.
In an article titled "Of Leaven Foods: Ramadan in Morocco" (in A Taste of Thyme, Culinary Cultures of the Middle East, ed. Sami Zubaida and Richard Tapper, Tauris Parke, 2000), Abdelhai Diouri remarks that food "in the month of Ramadan has never been the subject of a specialized study." In nineteenth- century Egypt, E W Lane did not notice that Egyptians ate any differently during the holy month, although the men adopted a special ritual for breaking the fast: "In general during Ramadan, in the houses of persons of the higher and middle classes, the stool of the supper-tray is placed in the apartment in which the master of the house receives his visitors a few minutes before sunset. A japanned tray is put upon it, and on this are placed several dishes or large saucers containing different kinds of dry fruit (which are called nukl [now referred to more commonly as yamish]) such as hazel-nuts (generally toasted), raisins, shelled walnuts, dried dates, dried figs, shelled almonds, sugared nuts, etc., and kahk or sweet cakes. With these are also placed several kullehs (or glass cups) of sherbet of sugar and water -- usually one or two more cups than there are persons in the house to partake of beverages in case of visitors coming unexpectedly; and often a little fresh cheese and a cake of bread are added. The pipes are also made ready... Immediately after the call to evening-prayer, which is chanted four minutes after sunset, the master and such of his family or friends as happen to be with him drink each a glass of sherbet. They then usually say the evening-prayers; and this done eat a few nuts, etc., and smoke their pipes. After this slight refreshment they sit down to a plentiful meal of meat and other food which they term their breakfast."
Now, yamish is nibbled on between the two main meals. Dried dates and peanuts often replace the more expensive halawiyat (sweets), although some housewives and grandmothers still go to the trouble of making them, using a family recipe. More than a particular dish, it is the purchase of basic ingredients that marks the Ramadan tradition in Egypt: sugar in large quantities, flour, honey, and tea are basics, followed in order of importance by dried fruit (especially dates), nuts and biscuits, to be presented with tea to the neighbours and visitors who arrive after Iftar to watch the month's special television programmes.
Suhour, on the other hand, is more like a regular breakfast, usually consisting of bread, yogurt, eggs, white cheese and tea.
While their Ramadan diets diverge, all the countries of the Middle East have one trait in common: the month of fasting is also the month of excessive food consumption. "If individuals held to the alimentary tradition of the Prophet during Ramadan," writes Diouri, "their body weight would certainly show evidence of it by the end of the month... In fact, today, particularly in the towns, the exact reverse occurs: many people experience a substantial weight increase." Commenting on this phenomenon in modern Morocco, Diouri argues that the generous use of sugar and flour might be the culprit: According to A Ben Talha, author of a monograph on the local customs of Muslims in the city of Mulay Idriss and its environs during the month of Ramadan, 40 years ago Iftar consisted of "a bowl of soup, preceded by a sweet fruit, a small amount of honey or even just a mouthful of water: that alone gave strength... and Suhour consisted of a light meal: toast smeared with butter or bread soaked in egg and lightly fried in butter... or, according to an old custom, a hot loaf just taken from the oven; that was typical of old peasants." No snacks were eaten between meals; nor was an abundance of fried and baked sweets devoured from dusk to dawn, as is now the case. Far from reflecting the frugality advocated by the Prophet, the new traditions indicate our lasting adherence to ancient Persian and Turkish indulgence.
Diouri, however, has isolated three elements that are basic to the Ramadan meals in Morocco: the rghaif or bread; the harira (a soup made of meat and vegetables) and the halwa or sweets: "[These] terms... are generic terms, which, because of the variety of foods that they each cover, provide the menus of Suhur and Iftar with a potentially rich paradigmatic depth extending beyond a very narrow range of foodstuff," he writes. A careful examination of the dishes they encompass and the way these are prepared leads him to three important general principles: "First, none of these foods comes from the traditional cuisine, which is considered as purely Moroccan in origin. Second, apart from mint tea, which is sometimes prepared by men, everything is produced exclusively by women. Thus food at Ramadan sanctions culinary traditions of taste as well as the division of space (and power) between men and women. From this follows a complete ambience and a complete culture." The third point Diouri makes derives from his examination of the recipes for these foods, which he says are essentially based on starch and leavening, fat and sugar. French toast, often eaten alone for Suhur, is a good example of the combination of these elements: the slices of the previous day's bread are soaked in eggs beaten with milk, served with sugar or honey and washed down with sweet tea.
The Iftar is a more elaborate affair, where the harira takes pride of place.
There are many different types of harira, according to Diouri, "several of which are linked to special rituals. For example on the morning of the eid saghir [the small feast, marking the end of Ramadan] a semolina harira flavoured with aniseed is served; a caraway-flavoured harira is served hot with steamed sheep heads" on the morning of the Feast of Immolation. "In every Moroccan cookery book there are at least three or four recipes for harira. It is always mentioned as being used to break the fast in Ramadan. Although each recipe starts from the same point, all are different... Indeed, harira is probably the one Moroccan dish for which no two regions, families or even individuals give the same recipe."
According to Diouri, harira varies not only in the ingredients and seasonings used, but also according to the consumer's financial means. It is cooked in two different stages and pots: first the broth is prepared, then all of contents of the second pot -- basically legumes, such as lentils and beans -- are taken care of.
Small pieces of chopped meat or poultry, generally fatty mutton, are used for the broth, but scraps of chicken, wings, ground meat, pure fat or even butter can replace the more expensive chunks often unavailable to the poor. These pieces of meat are "cooked according to the qadra principle in a light yellow sauce made from pepper and saffron, onions and parsley. Chick peas are added."
An essential component of the second pot (called the tadwira) is the flour scattered over and turned into the pot for the purpose of "binding" the harira. The dissolved flour is then mixed with freshly crushed tomatoes or tomato paste and with coriander steeped in salt This mixture is brought to the boil and into it are placed the pieces of cooked meat and the stock, as well as some rice or vermicelli to give the soup a grainy rather than a velvety consistency. "The tadwira is very probably the basis of the harira," comments Diouri; certainly, according to general opinion, "the harira depends on the tadwira." A harira could be prepared without the meat soup, and probably originally was. "Are we then dealing with two separate recipes added together?" he wonders. "Were the tqata' ([the broth and meat] merely an addition resulting from some fantasy of refined, decadent taste in an Andalusia given over to bucolic pleasure? Or are they an enrichment attributable to the need for strengthening food because of the fast?"
The question brings to mind a soup we used to eat at home when we were children, and which my grandmother claimed was endowed with the magic power of stirring us out of our chronic laziness. Few dishes were as unwelcome as this particular concoction: black lentils and barley were cooked in a broth made of meat and a large marrow bone as well as several "beneficial vegetables." The mixture was left to simmer for hours. Seasoning was minimal, never going beyond a little table salt. The characteristic aroma of the mixture sent shivers of revulsion down our spines. Once the ingredients had been cooked beyond recognition, the bone and meat that had not dissolved were removed and the rest of the contents of the pot pressed through a fine sieve, producing a smooth, heavy, gooey purée that had the strange property of coagulating if not consumed at once. We secretly called our lentil soup labkha batates w' ishmotu, a reference to the potato cataplasm that karagoz would slap on the face of his enemies -- and a clear indication of what we wished to do with the contents of our plates.
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