Spotlight on: Medieval Oven Cooking

Besides an open fire, food was heated in a number of devices in medieval times, and the cookery books mention several of them. A first group includes the mustawqad (مستوقد), which is only mentioned in the oldest Abbasid manual (10th century), where it is described as a stove built in the form of a trapezium (munharif), half a man’s height tall, with openings to let the smoke out. The kānūn (كانون) was a (portable) brazier, which appears a few times in manuals from both Egypt and Iraq, for the smoking of olives, for toasting bread topped with condiments and eggs (a kind of pizza avant la lettre, if you will), and, in one case, to heat up a harisa (meat porridge). It is possible that there were two types of kānūn, since the instructions for the smoked olives refer to their being placed inside and the door being closed. In Muslim Spain, khubz kanuni (‘kanun bread’) referred to bread baked in embers. In modern Egypt, the kānūn refers to a clay or mud-brick hearth for cooking.

In terms of ovens, there were essentially two kinds: the (mud-)brick furn (فرن) and the clay tannūr (تنّور), what is today called a tandoor. The latter goes back to the Babylonian tinuru, and is shaped like a cylinder or bee-hive, with a vent at the bottom (where the fire is kindled) and a hole on top. Already in Babylonian times, it was used to bake bread — most commonly unleavened –with the dough being stuck along the sides. However, in medieval Arab cuisine, it was also used to cook dishes, which would be put inside for slow-cooking after bread baking, placed on top, or even hung inside. Some of the commercial and palace tannūrs were so big that they could accommodate a whole lamb.

The tannūr can be found across the eastern mediterranean very early on as there is evidence of similar cylindrical ovens made out of mud and clay being used in ancient Egypt, as the illustration below shows, with loaves also being stuck along the sides for baking. In fact, the tannūr may just as easily have originated in Egypt, and then spread to Mespotamia.

The conventional oven, furn, is open at the front, with a fire being lit either inside, or underneath a shelf. It was used for baking bread, as well as for the roasting of dishes. The medieval furn would have looked very similar to the one depicted in the late 18th century in the Description d’Egypte.

But was every kitchen equipped with these devices? Well, for a start, only a small percentage of houses had a separate kitchen space, which was the preserve of the elite, some of whose houses even had two kitchens; one with an oven and a kānūn, and another one — without equipment — possibly for prepping the food. However, the Egyptian historian al-Jabarti, writing about the second half of the 18th century, explained that every notable’s house had two kitchens, “one on the lower level for men, and the other in the women’s quarters (harem).”

The average person’s house in urban areas would have had neither the space nor the required ventilation. Indeed, unlike in colder climates, fires were not lit inside since, for the most part, heating was not required, in light of the climate. Another factor was the relatively high price of fuel (wood, in particular), which was outside the reach of the majority of the population. They would, in fact, get all of their hot meals outside, which explains the huge number of public food vendors and stalls. Sometimes, people would prepare some food and have it heated up elsewhere; this was the case for bread, for instance, where the dough would be prepared at home and then sent to a communal oven, as is still the case in some areas today. However, as the cookery books reveal, this practice would also exist for other dishes. A contemporary example can be found in Marrakech, where many families still prepare the famous tanjia in traditional clay jars before sending it to be slow-cooked in the ashes of the communal oven that heats the hammam.

People living in the countryside were not faced with the city-dwellers’ problem of space, and would have had self-made ovens, made of mud, which would not have been very different from those found to this day in some rural areas. There is also evidence that they would have had makeshift outside tannūrs, the average one being approximately one metre in height, and packed with pottery on the outside to preserve the heat.

The English traveller Edward Lane, writing in the early 19th century, described the situation in Egypt at the time: “in the houses of the peasants in Lower Egypt, there is generally an oven (“furn“), at the end furthest from the entrance, and occupying the whole width of the chamber. It resembles a wide bench or seat, and is about breast-high: it is constructed of brick and mud; the roof arched within, – and flat on the top. The inhabitants of the house, who seldom have any night-covering during the winter, sleep upon the top of the oven, having previously lighted a fire within it; or the husband and wife only enjoy this luxury, and the children sleep upon the floor.” For fuel, they used dung of cattle, kneaded with chopped straw, and formed into round flat cakes, known as gilla (جلّة), which can still be found in rural Egypt.

Outdoor cooking on a mustawqad (Bibliothèque nationale de France)
Cooking Cakes with Fat, Tomb of Rekhmire, Nina de Garis Davies (1881–1965), Paper, tempera paint, ink
cooking cakes in ancient Egypt (Metropolitan Museum)
relief in the tomb of Ramesses depicting the baking of bread (Rosellini, Monumenti)
Oven (furn) inside bakery in 18th-century Egypt (Description d’Egypte).

Tuniso-Andalusian Pickled onions

August is fermentation month and we’re kicking off with this 13th-century recipe from a cookery book written by an Andalusian emigré who settled in Tunis. The process involves premium peeled onions, honey, vinegar and water, with the flavour being enhanced with nigella and salt. Like all pickled delicacies, it takes a bit of time, of course, for nature to work its magic. However, in this case the wait isn’t too long; after three days, there’s a final check-up to make sure there’s enough liquid and the taste is to your liking, and voilà it’s ready for use. Don’t forget to store in a sealed the container, though — when you’re not dipping into it, that is! You will never go back to store-bought pickled onions again, I can tell you!

Citron drink (شراب الأترنج, sharaab al-utrunj)

Very simple to make, this refreshing citron drink from 13th-century Aleppo is a real winner on warm balmy days in the garden or by the pool! It is made with citron pulp, sugar, sour orange juice, borage water, lily water, rose water, and willow water. The author includes a variation which adds rue and the aṭrāf al-ṭīb spice mix. It is absolutely delicious refrigerated or with crushed ice for that mojito feel! You could, of course, make it with the juice of any citrus fruit, whereas today we can use normal oranges, which are already sweet enough and so one can reduce the sugar content somewhat.

Spotlight on: the Camel

The Arabic words for ‘camel’, jamal and its more classical sister ibil, refer to both the one-humped dromedary (Camelus dromedarius) and the two-humped Camel bactrianus, the so-called Asian camel, which is more common in Persia and Central Asia. The latter species is also called fālij in Arabic. A female camel is known as nāqa, which probably goes back to the Akkadian word with the same meaning, anaqāte.

The animal is already mentioned as food in Classical Antiquity and Greek authors spoke of camels being roasted whole at banquets at Persian courts, whereas Aristotle spoke highly of both camel meat and milk. The Roman emperor Heliogabalus (218-222) was allegedly a great afficianado of camel’s heel, a taste he probably acquired during his childhood in what is today Homs (Syria). Physicians were less favourable, however, and the great Galen stated that only people who were mentally and physically like a camel could eat it.

The Bedouin livelihoods in pre-Islamic Arabia relied on their animal herds, especially the camel, which was their most prized possession due to its multiple uses, as a mount, beast of burden, and a source of drink (its milk), fuel (its dung), and hides. As a result, camels would not usually be slaughtered for meat, unless they were ill or died from natural causes. So, when the pre-Islamic bedouin poet Hatim al-Ta’i (حاتم الطائي) slaughtered several hundred camels to honour visitors, this was considered an extreme act of Bedouin generosity and hospitality. In fact, this and other similar stories — usually involving the slaughtering of animals (especially camels) — made him a legend in Arabic (and Persian) culture, and his name lives on to this day in the saying ‘more generous than Hatim al-Ta’i’ (أكرم من حاتم الطائي).

The camel’s character was not as praiseworthy as its practical benefits and there is frequent mention of its spitefulness and extreme rancorousness, combined with a long memory of those who wronged them!

In Arabic culinary literature, the use of camel meat is only mentioned in what is considered the oldest (10th-century) Abbasid cookery book, which contains a number of camel recipes, known as jazūriyya, from the word jazūr, meaning a slaughtered camel (especially the female). The meat (including the hump) is generally sliced up and cooked (stew or roasted), whereas camel liver also appears as an ingredient. There is also a recipe for a sour drink made from camel’s milk mixed with black pepper and galangal. The author recommended camel milk for liver aches and putrified humours, and its meat for individuals with weak stomachs.

Physicians like Ibn Sina (Avicenna) advised camel’s milk in the treatment of asthma; camel dung for removing scars and warts, pimples, and ulcers, and for swollen joint pains; camel urine for dandruff; camel’s brain with vinegar against epilepsy; camel’s fat for convulsions; and fumigation of a camel’s hump to relieve haemorrhoids. Ibn Bakthishu’ (11th c.) suggested drinking camel’s brain cooked in rainwater in order to combat pains resulting from coldness. Ibn Jazla (12th century), for his part, recommended camel blood against epilepsy, and also includes what is probably the most unusual medicine involving camel; a drink made with dried and crushed camel’s testicles against adder bites — cheers!

Illustration of the camel in a 13th-century manuscript of Ibn Bakhtishu’s book on animals (British Library)
Slaughtering a camel for cooking (early 13th century, Bibliothèque nationale de France)

Egyptian pistachio stew (fustuqiyya)

Named after one of its principal ingredients, pistachios (فستق, fustuq), this recipe from The Sultan’s Feast is made with meat (lamb) chunks and meatballs, as well as a fair amount of spices, including aṭrāf al-ṭīb, cassia, mastic, salt, and (dried) mint. The broth is thickened with pounded pistachios and everything is left to stew. To cap things off, add lemon juice to the mix. Rose water should be sprinkled on top and rubbed along the sides of the pot for that wonderful sweet-and-sour taste — a chicken delight!

Sikbaj — the return!

Over three years ago, I posted a recreation of one of the most emblematic dishes of medieval Arab cooking, a vinegar stew known as sikbāj (سكباج), with both the dish and the name being a borrowing from Persia (sik, ‘vinegar’; bāj, ‘stew’). The recreation was based on a 10th-century Baghdadi recipe and though the result was flavoursome enough, the sourness of the vinegar was quite overpowering to the modern palate. However, everything deserves a second chance and so here’s another stab, this time using an Egyptian version of the dish from The Sultan’s Feast. It’s made with fatty lamb chunks and a range of herbs, spices and vegetables, including, agarwood, cassia, coriander, onions, leek, carrots, and aubergine, as well as, of course, the eponymous vinegar, tempered with some dibs (date molasses) or honey. The dish is served with almonds, jujubes, dates and raisins sprinkled on top. The result could not have been more different from the first iteration; rather than the tart vinegary kick, there was now a more mellow sweet-and-sour overtone. Probably the biggest difference in the two preparations was the use of the home-made medieval grape-and-fig vinegar, instead of the plain vinegar of the first sikbaj. The recipes, themselves, call for ‘vinegar’ but it is very likely that then — just as now — the cooks would have selected the vinegar of their choice for any given dish, and so, who knows, maybe in this case a fruity vinegar would have been used. At least, that’s what I’d like to think! In any case, when sikbaj is on the menu again, I know which of the two recipes I’d go for…

Spotlight on: Rabbits

The rabbit (Oryctolagus cuniculus) is a member of the Leporidae (Latin, lepus, ‘hare’) family, which includes various species of hare, and is native to the Western Mediterranean, more specifically Morocco and the Iberian Peninsula. The animal was unknown as food in ancient Greece, and the Romans were the first to import the animals (from Spain) for food, using ferrets to catch them, in the 2nd century BCE. Rabbits and hares were bred and fattened in special warrens, known as leporarium, and the poet Martial (1st century BCE) considered hare the best game meat.

It is unclear when rabbits travelled eastward along the southern Mediterranean, and when they did, their meat was not highly praised since no recipes can be found in any of the Near Eastern medieval Arabic cookery books. In terms of terminology, the Arabic arnab (أرنب) to this day is the word for both hare and rabbit (especially in the Near East), though only the latter is used for food in the present-day Arab world, most famously in the Egyptian mulukhiyya (though this is also made with chicken or beef). Andalusian Arabic had separate words for rabbit, i.e. qunilya (قنلية) or qunayna (قنينة), both going back to the Latin cuniculus, which would also result in the English ‘coney’, as well as Kaninchen (German), konijn (Dutch), and kanin (Danish, Swedish). The linguistic confusion continues to this day in Morocco, where arnab can mean ‘hare’ or ‘rabbit’, but qniya only denotes rabbits. Like in ancient Rome, rabbits were bred for food in al-Andalus. Interestingly enough, though the hare appears in the name of certain dishes called arnabī, none of these require it and were, instead, made with beef, dried tuna, or aubergine!

It is only in their homeland that rabbits and hares were used in cooking, with a number of recipes for both in the anonymous Andalusian cookbook and that compiled in Tunisia by the Andalusian emigré al-Tujībī, both from the 13th century. The animals are usually roasted but also stuffed, in one instance with a rich mixture including some more rabbit meat!

In the medical and pharmacological literature, only arnab is mentioned, though as stated, it probably referred to both hares and rabbits. The 13th-century Andalusian physician Ibn Khalsun recommended young female rabbit, cooked with vinager, murrī, garlic, olive oil, onions and spices. Other scholars also praised hare meat; when eaten with vinegar, it is useful against epilepsy and when roasted, it was considered good for bowel ulcers, as well as being a diuretic. The blood of hares was prescribed in a poultice to remove freckles, pimples and blisters.

rabbits in a 13th-century manuscript of a work by the physician Ibn Bakhtishu’ (“the rabbit is afraid of all animals and is nocturnal…”)

Andalusian roast (شواء, shuwā’) duck

This is one of the few dishes in the medieval Arabic culinary recipes requiring duck, which in this case is referred to as iwazz al-qirt (أوزّ القرط), a peculiarly Andalusian Arabic term that translates literally as ‘earring goose’ and denotes a kind of duck that remains to be identified. The other interesting feature of this recipe is that it is attributed to one Abu Salih al-Rahbani, who ‘made it in his Kitchen.’

In this 13th-century recipe, the duck is marinated overnight in a mixture of juices (onion, garlic, coriander), murrī, vinegar, olive oil, and a collection of aromatic spices, including cassia, ginger, and cumin. Before putting the duck into the marinade, its skin should be pierced, with the holes being variously stuffed with garlic, almond paste, walnuts, or ginger.

If you happen to have a tannūr (clay oven) handy, put the duck inside — otherwise, just use the oven at home — and when it is cooked to a turn take it out, cut it up and serve with its juices. To say that the result is succulent is not to do it justice. If you do need to describe it, ‘heavenly’ is the word I’d use…

And, in case you feel guilty about such indulgence, bear in mind that it is also for medicinal purposes since, so the author reminds us, it is highly nutritious and strengthening!

Medieval jerky

The preserving of meat and fish through drying, curing (salting), and pickling goes back to ancient Egypt, and in what is considered the oldest Arabic cookery book (10th century), there is already a recipe for antelope (!) jerky (قديد, qadīd). The recipe recreated here is from a 13th-century Tuniso-Andalusian cookery book and can be made with any kind of meat (in this case beef), which is cut it into strips and then put into a marinade of vinegar and salt for about half a day, after which it is seasoned with pepper, dried coriander, cumin, caraway, and murrī. Once these wonderful flavours have infused the meat, it is taken out and hung on a rope in the sun for a day — for those who do not have the luxury of sunlight, feel free to use an air dryer. It is ready when the meat has lost all of its moisture. Store in a jar in dark dry place. Interestingly enough, it was not supposed to be enjoyed as a snack, like today, but to be cooked and used ‘just like fresh meat’.

 

Medieval Arab kitchen hacks 2: The physician’s advice

The physician, philosopher and theologian Ibn Butlan (d. 1066) was one of the leading scholars of his day. Born in Baghdad, he travelled widely across the Muslim world (Aleppo, Cairo, Constantinople) dispensing his immense medical knowledge. He ended up in Antioch (present-day Antakya, in Turkey), where he became a monk (he was a Nestorian Christan), and spent his final days at a monastery. He is best known for his Taqwīm al-ṣiḥḥa (تقويم الصحّة, ‘The Maintenance of Health’), a hygiene and dietetic synopsis in the form of tables, which gained considerable fame and influence in Christian Europe, with Latin (Tacuinum sanitatis) and German translations being printed in 1531 and 1533, respectively. The book contains therapeutic uses of various materia medica and foods, including dishes. His other works include a medical and dietetic manual for ‘monks living in a monastery or far from towns’, extracts from which found their way into several culinary treatises, and Daʿwat al-atibbāʾ (دعوة الأطبّاء, ‘The Physicians’ Dinner Party’), a humorous critique of quacks.

The Taqwīm al-ṣiḥḥa also contains plenty of cooking and dining advice, some of which was copied in some cookery books. Here are some recommendations for chefs:

Temper saltiness and acridity by boiling in freshwater.

Temper pungency and bitterness with vinegar, sourness with salt, and blandness with spices .

Boil that which is emaciated before cooking it, and coat it with fat before grilling it, and place a pot with freshwater underneath it.

Remove grilled food from the fire while it still retains some moisture.

Do not cover game meat when cooking it.

Do not slaughter an animal on the day it has eaten garlic or onions.

Make sure to remove the scum from meat when cooking it.

Sharpen cleavers to cut the bones to prevent them from shattering, and knives to cut meat so that it does not smell bad.

Scrape the table clean and for peeling onions use a knife that is not used in the cutting of the tharīd.

Use a dedicated ladle and lid for each pot.

Continuously skim off the froth and clean the sides of the pot from anything that can get burnt.

Remedy food that has been burnt by sticking wet paper along the sides of the pot.  

If you need to add water [to the pot], sprinkle it in and rub it along the sides of the pot so as to avoid bad smells.

Do not pound spices or almonds in a malodorous mortar, or put the juices in a rusty receptacle.

Do not ladle things out of the pot before it has stopped boiling and the heat has subsided.

Wash your hands before removing food from the pot.

Do not use vinegar or oil that have been in a copper vessel.

Remove the smell of onions on your hands by fumigating the hands with sandalwood.

Make sure to fry spices and onions, as this is what cooking is all about.

Leave meat high in density overnight to tenderize it, and boil it in water and salt.

Avoid fires with fresh and moist wood because the best fire is that which is free from defects.

If you want to quickly cook meat, throw some borax on it, and add wax, fig twigs, and melon peel to the pot.

When it comes to diners, Ibn Butlan, like many other physicians, prescribed a number of things:

Sweets should be eaten at the end of the meal because they remove the greasy residue of food from the mouth, and because they are very balanced.

Avoid eating vinegar after rice, butter milk with radish, or onions with garlic.

Do not have salty foods or cold water after eating fruits.

One should eat light food, such as vegetables and fruits, before heavy food.

Do not eat and drink at the same time.

Have a light meal in the evening and you will be more active the next day.

Have the table cleared while you still feel like eating, to avoid overindulgnce.

Page containing some of the recommendations for cooks from a presentation copy of the Taqwim al-sihha for the son of Saladin (Salah al-Din), al-Malik al-Zahir (d. 1216), king of Aleppo. [British Library Or1347]