And then there is Cara Hoffman, who lent me the courage to call myself a writer. I learned more about writing from staying with Cara for ten days than I did in the previous ten years; I would never have finished this book without that white-knuckle trip to the Upstate Writers’ Gulag. Eli Ben-Yaacov and Glenn Hoffman kept us human with exquisite dinners; Hunter S. Thompson, Iggy Pop, and Seneca Drums Gin helped us finish the job.
Maren Milligan, Georges Naassan, Christa Salamandra, and Robin Shulman all read the manuscript and gave invaluable comments. Suhail Shadoud spent hours correcting my Arabic and suggesting transliterations, both of which he did with the eloquence of a poet and the precision of a dentist. And I was fortunate to find Jennifer Block, a stellar investigative reporter, for a fact-checker. She saved me from making a fool of myself on too many occasions to mention. Any mistakes were inserted by me once her back was turned.
This book could not have happened without our New York friends and mentors. William Serrin inspired me to pursue a master’s degree in journalism at New York University, where Dick Blood taught me how to count the bullet holes and how to eat the meal. Brooke Kroeger inspired me to believe I could be a foreign correspondent, and then an author, and never let me stay satisfied with work that was just good enough. Jimmy Breslin and Ronnie Eldridge married us off; Frankie Edozien, Bob Roberts, and Hilary Russ kept America safe while we were gone; Rukhsana Siddiqui’s annual visits to New York were reason enough to come back. Robin Shulman and Ethan Miller helped me imagine this book over long-distance phone calls from Beirut. Indrani Sen, Tracie McMillan, and Kim Severson made me see food writing as an essential form of journalism. Alyssa Katz, Robert Neuwirth, Azadeh Moaveni, and Jennifer Washburn gave indispensable advice on agents and proposals and contracts. Once the machinery was in motion, Mary Anne Weaver advised me to always go up the hill; Deborah Amos, Laurie Garrett, Tim Phelps, Scott Malcomson, Suketu Mehta, Dan Morrison, Fariba Nawa, Basharat Peer, and Helen Winternitz all helped me believe that books do, one day, actually get finished.
I owe special thanks to Flip Brophy at Sterling Lord Literistic. She encouraged my early attempts at book conception, and later introduced me to my agent and dear friend, Rebecca Friedman. Rebecca understood what I was trying to write even before I did; her literary skills and insight turned a half-baked idea about food and war into a proposal and then a book. She brings books into existence through sheer intelligence and faith.
Dominick Anfuso and Martha Levin at Free Press believed in Day of Honey from the beginning. Wylie O’Sullivan, my quiet, supportive, yet formidable editor, guided me through the psychological warfare of memoir writing with an almost biblical patience. Her perceptive editing shaped a manuscript into a story, and I was lucky indeed to work with her. Mara Lurie eased the words onto paper with the unflappable skill of a short-order cook. Ellen Sasahara designed the text that makes the book a visual feast. Nicole Kalian handled publicity, and Eric Fuentecilla designed the cover, so it’s thanks to them that you’re reading this at all. To Sydney Tani-gawa and everyone else who endured me: many, many thanks and endless baklava.
Finally, family. Hassan, Hassane, and Ahmad Bazzi welcomed me into theirs, and Hanan Bazzi made me feel at home in Beirut. Umm Hassane and Abu Hassane need no introduction, but to them I would like to say one last thank you. My mother, Janina Ciezadlo, didn’t blink an eye when I told her I was moving to the Middle East; she played it cool the whole time I was in Beirut and Baghdad, but I know how hard it is to have a loved one in a war zone. Her unwavering emotional and intellectual support have sustained me throughout my life. I only wish my grandparents, John and Constance Ciezadlo, were still around to hold this book in their hands and say, with that skeptical, wondering tone: Will you look at that!
And at long last, Mohamad. One of the worst things about writing a book is how it takes you away from the people you love—an especially frustrating irony when you are writing about how much you love them. Mohamad endured this for three years, during which he kept me going with his usual combination of strength, intelligence, dry wit, and sheer classiness. This book is dedicated to him.
Author’s Note
THE STORY OF the Caliph and the Byzantine ambassador draws from the accounts of the eleventh-century historian al-Khatib al-Baghdadi, beautifully translated and annotated by Jacob Lassner in The Topography of Baghdad in the Early Middle Ages. The lines from Abu Nuwas’s poem about the neighborhood bar, are adapted from a translation by the Princeton Online Poetry Project. I’ve paraphrased them into contemporary speech; I like to think Abu Nuwas would approve.
And finally, in order to protect their safety and preserve their privacy, I have changed the names of some of the people in this book.
Recipes
Fattoush
Levantine Bread Salad
Serves 4 to 6
In the Middle East, people of all religions consider it a sin to waste bread. The necessity of using up day-old flatbread has created a universe of foods—including traditional Arabic dishes like fatteh (see Fattet Hummus), fattoush, and the bread soups of the Arabian peninsula—that transforms leftovers into something magnificent.
Ingredients
Dressing (makes about 1 cup)
2 garlic cloves (about 2 teaspoons mashed)
¼ teaspoon coarse sea salt
Juice of 1 lemon (about 3 tablespoons)
1 teaspoon pomegranate molasses*
⅔ cup extra virgin olive oil
Salad
6 cups chopped romaine (about 12 ounces)
½ cup roughly chopped mint leaves
½ cup roughly chopped parsley leaves
1 cup sliced scallions (about 2 ounces)
2 cups purslane leaves (about 2 ounces), thick stems removed **
2 Persian cucumbers (about 4 ounces), halved lengthwise and sliced into half-moons (about 1 cup)
1 pound juicy tomatoes (about 4), chopped (about 2 cups)
2 radishes, quartered lengthwise and sliced into quarter-moons
1 large or 2 medium (six-inch) Arabic pitas, preferably day-old
Extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon sumac, or more to taste
Freshly ground black pepper
Equipment
Mortar and pestle
Large salad bowl
1. Mash the garlic and salt together to make a paste. Squeeze the lemon juice over the garlic, stir in the pomegranate molasses, and let it macerate while you assemble the salad.
2. Combine the romaine, mint, parsley, scallions, purslane, cucumbers, and radishes in a large bowl. (Make-ahead moment: you can prepare the salad up to this point and refrigerate until serving.)
3. Preheat the oven to 300°F. Peel the two surfaces of the pitas apart, then spray or brush them lightly on all sides with olive oil. Toast until crisp and golden brown, about 5 minutes (watch closely, they burn fast). Take them out immediately. When they are cool enough to handle, break them into bite-sized pieces.
4. Add the tomatoes and bread chips to the salad just before serving. Whisk ⅓ cup olive oil into the dressing and pour it over the salad. Dust with sumac and ground pepper. Wash your hands thoroughly, then toss the salad by hand, making sure that every leaf and vegetable is coated with dressing. Taste and adjust for salt and sumac. Serve immediately.
VARIATIONS
Consider this recipe a template: fattoush is a chance to save, improvise, and reinvent. You can make it with any leftover bread instead of pita. Some like it chunky; others prefer the salad finely chopped. Different palates prefer more or less sumac. Some people add fresh herbs (try tarragon or summer savory), and a brave or reckless few add foreign objects like raw cauliflower. (I recommend feta cheese, sliced bell peppers, avocado, and zaatar.) And so on.
I love garlic, but some people prefer fattoush without it. If you like garlic but want a less assertive salad dressing, split a clove of garlic in half lengthwise. If there is a green shoot, remove it. For a whisper of flavor, rub the inside of your salad bowl with t
he cut halves; for a little more, put them into your salad dressing and let them infuse it (but remember to remove them before serving).
Some people fry the bread in olive oil instead of toasting it. Cut it into bitesized squares or triangles of roughly the same size (kitchen shears are good for this). Heat ½ inch canola or pure olive oil (not extra virgin) in a skillet. When it shimmers, fry the pieces in small batches, turning them gently, until uniformly crisp and golden brown. Drain on paper towels or a brown grocery bag.
Batata wa Bayd Mfarakeh
Crumbled Potatoes and Eggs
Serves 4 generously
Slow cooking is the essence of this dish. Some cooks deep-fry the potatoes, but I prefer Umm Hassane’s method, which makes for a consistency more like home fries. The standard recipe is just eggs, onions, and potatoes. But this simple base lends itself remarkably well to improvisation: try adding chopped bell peppers and/or garlic to the onions; add smoked salmon, cream, or your favorite cheese with the eggs (I like feta, goat cheese, or cheddar). It’s also good with cumin, black mustard seeds, and a pinch of curry powder.
Ingredients
10 ounces onions (about 2 medium-large), diced (about 2 cups)
2 tablespoons canola or olive oil
3 pounds russet or Idaho potatoes (about 4 medium-large), peeled and cut into ½-inch cubes (about 4 cups)
1 tablespoon sea salt, plus more for salting potatoes and to taste
Optional: 2 tablespoons chopped fresh herbs such as oregano, rosemary, and/or thyme
8 eggs
Equipment
Medium-sized pot or Dutch oven with a lid
1. Sauté the onions in the oil in a heavy or nonstick pot over medium heat. Stir frequently and do not let them burn. Once the onions begin to soften, after 2 to 3 minutes, cover the pot and turn the heat down to medium-low. Check the onions and stir every 10 minutes or so to keep them from sticking and burning. Do not let them brown at this point; you want them to caramelize very slowly. When they start expelling a lot of liquid and are turning translucent, turn the heat down as low as possible.
2. While the onions are cooking, sprinkle the potato cubes generously with salt, toss, and let them sit for about 5 minutes. Rinse very well under cold water.
3. After about 30 minutes, the onions should be starting to turn dark gold. Increase the heat to medium and remove the lid to evaporate as much of the liquid as possible. Add the tablespoon of salt and the potatoes and mix. If you’re using fresh herbs, add them now.
4. Turn the heat to very low and cover. Sweat the potatoes until they are soft—usually 10 to 15 minutes—stirring gently and tasting every so often. If you like them crispy, turn the heat up, add a bit more oil, and let them crisp for a few minutes between stirs. The potatoes are done when they just begin to disintegrate around the edges and you can pierce them easily with a fork. Taste and adjust the seasoning.
5. Crack the eggs directly into the pot. Stir until they just begin separating into creamy curds. Take the pot off the heat and keep stirring until the eggs are done (they will continue to cook for a minute or two in the pot). Taste and adjust the seasoning with salt, pepper, or whatever else you like.
Umm Hassane strongly recommends that you serve batata wa bayd with salad. It also goes remarkably well with salted sliced tomatoes drizzled with olive oil.
VARIATION
For a less creamy, more distinct version, deep-fry the potatoes while the onions are caramelizing. Pour 2 inches canola or any other neutral, high smoke-point oil in a pot or deep skillet and heat to 300°F. Fry the potato cubes in small batches—don’t crowd the pan—until light golden brown. Take them out with a slotted spoon and drain them on paper towels or brown grocery bags. Add to the caramelized onions and crack in the eggs as directed above.
Shawrabet Shayrieh
Noodle Soup
Serves 4 to 6
This soup is a Bazzi family favorite. I figured it for a recent invention, a soupy adaptation of the classic spaghetti and meatballs. Then I discovered that the practice of cooking meatballs and fine noodles in soup goes all the way back to medieval Baghdad (and probably further). Arab colonizers introduced noodles to the Italians, who perfected the art of making pasta secca; Moorish conquerors brought the tiny, filbert-sized meatballs called al-bunduqieh to the Spanish, who called them albóndigas; and the Spanish completed the recipe by sailing to the New World and bringing the tomato to the Mediterranean. This recipe combines pasta, meatballs, and tomato sauce in a soup of old and new, tradition and innovation, Europe and Asia and the New World.
Ingredients
2 tablespoons pure (not extra virgin) olive oil
1⅓ cups angel hair or fideos pasta, crushed into roughly ¾-inch pieces
8 ounces Kafta (recipe follows), formed into small meatballs
2 meaty cloves garlic, crushed (about 2 teaspoons)
One 28-ounce jar tomato sauce or puréed tomatoes (or 2 pounds fresh tomatoes, grated on a box grater, and 1 tablespoon tomato paste)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
Water as needed
Optional
2 tablespoons finely chopped sundried tomatoes
Splash of red wine (about ¼ cup)
1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano or 1 teaspoon dried
2 tablespoons chopped basil or 2 teaspoons dried
Equipment
Large, heavy-bottomed soup pot
Plate or bowl for setting aside noodles
Spatula for sautéing noodles and meatballs
1. Heat the olive oil in a large soup pot over medium-high heat until it shimmers but does not smoke. Add the noodles and sauté, stirring constantly, until they smell toasted and turn uniformly golden brown, about 2 minutes. Remove the noodles, leaving as much of the oil as possible in the pot, and set aside.
2. Sauté the meatballs in the remaining oil, shaking gently, until they are evenly browned, about 3 minutes. If they stick, increase the heat slightly and wait for them to release; do not try to pry them loose. Add the crushed garlic (and sundried tomatoes if using) and sauté for another minute or so.
3. When the garlic begins to release its fragrance, deglaze the pan with tomato sauce (or red wine, or the reserved onion juice you may have if you made your own kafta). Simmer for about 30 seconds, then add the reserved noodles and all the other ingredients except basil. Salt to taste. (The oregano may taste a little bitter at first.)
4. Simmer for 10 to 15 minutes, adding water as needed. If you’re using basil, stir it in just before turning off the heat and let it wilt for a minute or two. Taste it again and adjust for salt and herbs. Add more water if needed. Serve.
VARIATION
If you’re in a hurry, you can make shawrabet shayrieh in about 15 minutes using premade ingredients—canned tomato sauce, frozen meatballs, and precrushed noodles. Or you can make everything by hand, from scratch, and enlist family and friends to help. It’s a favorite among kids of all ages.
Kafta
Makes about 48 tiny meatballs, 24 big
I usually make a double or quadruple batch of these meatballs and freeze the remainder.
Ingredients
½ medium onion
2 tablespoons finely chopped parsley
2 tablespoons chopped sundried tomatoes
8 ounces beef or lamb, finely ground*
2 teaspoons Aleppo pepper or 1 teaspoon chili powder
¼ teaspoon allspice
¼ teaspoon fine salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
⅛ teaspoon cumin
⅛ teaspoon coriander
⅛ teaspoon cinnamon
Equipment
Grater
Food processor if you’re grinding your own meat
Small sieve or tea strainer
Mixing bowl
1. Finely grate the onion half and let drain in a small sieve or tea strainer. Save the juice for the soup. Chop the parsley and sundried tomatoes very finely (if there’s any ex
tra, save it for the soup).
2. Mash all the ingredients together with a couple of forks or by hand. Don’t overmix—you don’t want the meat packed too tightly.
3. Tear off a teaspoon or a tablespoon of meat at a time (depending on what size meatballs you like). Roll it very lightly between your palms until it just forms a ball. Repeat for a total of 24 to 48 times.
Abu Hadi’s Foul Mdamas
Buried Fava Beans
Serves 4
Every city, country, and region has its own way of serving foul. In Egypt they serve it with butter, among other things; in Aleppo, with the hot red pepper the city is famous for; and in Damascus there is a kind of foul topped with yogurt called “lactating foul.” I like mine with melted feta cheese, hot peppers, and a fried egg.
Ingredients
1 cup dried fava beans*
3 cups water for soaking, plus more for cooking
¼ teaspoon baking soda
⅔ cup dried chickpeas
2 cups water for soaking, plus more for cooking
¼ teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon coarsely ground sea salt
1 tablespoon mashed garlic (about 3 cloves)
3 tablespoons lemon juice (about 1 lemon)
½ cup extra virgin olive oil, divided
½ teaspoon cumin
¼ teaspoon paprika
Bread, chopped tomatoes, scallions, raw green hot peppers, and olives for serving
Equipment
2 covered glass or ceramic bowls for soaking dried beans
2 medium cooking pots
Pestle
Large serving bowl
COOKING THE BEANS
1. Soak the beans in separate containers for 7 to 12 hours or overnight. (Unless it’s very cold, soak them covered in the refrigerator.)
2. Pour out the soaking water and rinse the beans well. Put each kind of bean in its own cooking pot with ¼ teaspoon baking soda. Add just enough water to barely cover—you should be able to see tiny bumps on the surface of the water.
Day of Honey: A Memoir of Food, Love, and War Page 37