Category: Lamb

The name of the dish (هريسة) is derived from the verb harasa (هرس), ‘to beat, crush, shred’, and was made with wheat or rice. The popularity of this dish, which was commonly prepared and sold at markets, was such that its ingredients were carefully monitored by the market inspector. Recipes for this dish can be found in nearly all cookery books and many dietary manuals.

This recipe from Abbasid times requires fatty meat (I used goat) which is cooked in water and salt until it falls apart, with some additional pounding in the mortar and pestle to achieve the right consistency. Milk is then cooked in the broth, after which rice is added, followed by sesame oil and rendered fat (one could also use milk or clarified butter). The important thing is to beat the mixture continually unitl you get a nougat type consistency. It is served with a bowl of murri, which, in addition to being a matter of taste, is rooted in medicine since physicians held that harisa (especially that made with wheat) was very nutritional but difficult to digest, which was remedied by the use of murri. If you don’t have this condiment in your pantry, don’t worry since it can easily be replaced with soya sauce!

Still made in many countries. the modern haris (هريس) is particularly associated with Emirate cuisine and made from wheat, meat (usually chicken or lamb), and a pinch of salt. The wheat is soaked overnight, then cooked with meat.

However, the dish recreated here bears a much closer resemblance to the modern Gulf favourite madruba (مضروبة, ‘beaten’), which is usually made with rice but can also commonly be found with wheat, or the ‘arsiyya (عرسية), a favourite in Oman and the Emirate of Fujairah. This name, which indicates that it was traditionally served at weddings (عرس, ‘urs), is already found in a 13th-century Baghdadi cookery book for the rice harisa.

The dish should not be confused with the Tunisian condiment of the same name (usually spelled harissa in English), which is a chilli pepper paste, and may have taken its name from the similarity in texture with the original harisa.

This recipe by the Cordoban physician Abu ‘l-Qasim al-Zahrawi (c. 936-1013), who has been called the Father of surgery, is for a dish of fried slices of meat, known as tabahija (طباهجة), also tabahaja and even tabahijiyya (طباهجية), which he prescribed for people suffering from dropsy (حبن, haban).

The word ultimately goes back to the Persian tabāhah (تباهه), which could denote “stewed meat; a light dish made of aubergine, sour milk and herbs; eggs, dressed with meat, vinegar, pepper, and pulse” (Steingass 1892: 278). The Persian tabahja (طباهجه) and tabahij (طباهیج), on the other hand, referred to an omelette or soft meat.

This recreation of a ‘tasty’ (طيبة, tayyiba) tabahija is very easy to make and involves thinly sliced meat being soaked in wine vinegar and some murri, after which it is fried with a sprinkling of caraway, cumin and pepper. When it is done, drizzle on a little cooked down aromatic wine, and add chopped fresh coriander, celery and rue.

The tabahija was very popular, as evidenced by its occurrence in a number of medieval Arabic culinary treatises, from Abbasid Iraq, Egypt and al-Andalus. One Abbasid culinary author traced it back to the Sasanid king Bahram whose retinue shot a deer and cut part of it in thin slices, which they proceeded to cook in fat. At first the king was shocked at what he considered the spoiling of the meat by slicing but after tasting it he greatly liked it. The same author contrasted tabāhijas with mutajjanat (مطجنات), which were cooked in a tajine (طاجن, from the Greek teganon, ‘pan’), usually made of copper; the former contain boneless and sliced meat, and the latter jointed chickens with the bones.

In the Arabic tradition, the tabahijas were considered varieties of stews (قلايا, qalaya), which contain a broth (مرق, maraq) and are cooked until they become dry. Sometimes a distinction was made between sour (حامض, hamid) and salty (مالح, malih) tabahijas.

In the medical literature, the tabahija was thought to strengthen the bowels, stimulate the appetite, and be particularly good for those who engage in physical exertion, but may cause nausea and abdominal pain, and be harmful to the joints.

Cooking a 13th-century ancestor of a modern classic from a Syrian recipe — one of two from that period, the other being by a Baghdadi author, which shows the popularity and spread of the dish.

It is made by boiling lamb (though one can only use chicken or any other meat) with rice and chickpeas shaped into large meatballs. The meat is then fried before the broth is returned to it, together with chickpeas. Then the noodles are added and when they are done, it is time to serve!

The medieval mujaddara (مجدّرة) was made with rice (or, as in this case, noodles), lentils and meat. It was also slightly more ‘soupy’ in consistency than the modern variety, which is vegetarian, while bulghur sometimes replaces rice (notably in Palestinian cuisine), and it is served with a topping of fried onion.

The word translates as ‘pock-marked’ (from جدري/judari, ‘smallpox’), in reference to the appearance of the lentils amidst the rice.

The tharīd (ثريد) is one of the oldest dishes in Arab cuisine and was imported from the East to North Africa and al-Andalus, where it gained a new lease of life, with the cookery books containing many recipes and new variants, such as this one, made with milk, from The Exile’s Cookbook.

The meat is cut up into large chunks and then cooked with pepper, salt, coriander, and onion. Once the meat is done, it is set aside and finely crumbled unleavened bread is added to the broth, to which milk is gradually added until the bread is saturated with it. The tharīd is transferred to a serving dish, after which freshly made butter (home-made is best of course!). The final touch comes in the guise of a dusting of sugar. The cakey texture of the bread is an ideal complement to the meat, whereas the butter and sugar provide a subtle sweet counterpoint. A delight!

The 12th-century Andalusian physician Ibn Zuhr stated that if the milk is boiled, the tharida is tastier and milder, but very harmful! I guess everything in life comes at a price!

A recipe for a lamb stew made with citron pulp ( حماض, hummād) attributed to the Abbasid Caliph al-Ma’mūn (d. 833), the son of Harun al-Rashid, and founder of the famous ‘House of Wisdom’ (بيت الحكمة, bayt al-hikma). A renowned gastronome, he also gave his name to a popular rice pudding and is said to have written a cookery book, which is unfortunately lost.

The recipe involves lamb chunks cooked with onion, coriander, olive oil, chickpeas and salt. Once the meat is done, the citron pulp is added, while pomegranate juice and some sugar is used to take the edge off the sourness. It is seasoned with pepper, coriander, and ginger. There is, however, a very interestiing twist in the tail as it should be poured over pieces of bread, thus turning it into a tharid. So, there you have it — two for the price of one! What’s not to like?

This is a unique recipe for a beef stew from The Exile’s Cookbook made with borage (Borage officinalis), known as lisān al-thawr (لسان الثور, ‘ox tongue’) — a loan translation from the Greek boúglōsson (the etymon of the English ‘bugloss’) — but as Abū khuraysh (أبو خريش) in Andalusian Arabic. The dish is made with lamb, borage leaves, salt, olive oil, pepper, coriander and onion. The beautiful star-shaped flowers also serve as an attractive garnish.

This is the only time borage appears as an ingredient in a food dish, as it was used primarily in medicinal compounds (often its water in beverages), most notably in stomachics and anti-nausea drugs.

The best-quality borage allegedly came from Syria or Khorasan. Medicinally, burnt borage was thought to be useful against mouth ulcers, palpitations and melancholic conditions. When cooked with sugar, it was beneficial for coughs and roughness of the chest. It is still used today in Unani medicine (where it is known by its Persian name, ‘kavzaban’, گاو زبان) for a variety of conditions, including palpitations and nerve health.

This recipe from The Exile’s Cookbook has deep roots, which can be traced back to Abbasid times and possibly further, to Persia. The earliest narjisiyya (نرجسية) recipes involved adding egg yolks at the end of the cooking process thus creating the impression of narcissus flowers (نرجس, narjis) floating on top, hence the name of the dish.

In al-Andalus, the dish appeared in a different guise, namely as a lamb omelette of sorts being cut up in the shape of a narcissus flower, with the carrots serving as the stamens. The recipe calls for ram (but lamb will do just as well, of course), which is cut up and then cooked halfway through with salt, olive oil, pepper and coriander. Then carrots are cut up lengthwise and ‘planted’ on the meat, while adding some water, vinegar and saffron. Afterwards, it is time to sprinkle on washed rice and then — it is an Andalusian dish, after all! — eggs whipped with saffron. You can cook it either in the pot or in the oven (as in the recreatino). When it is done, the resultant omelette — or quiche — is cut up in the shape of narcissi. The narjisiyya was thought to have aphrodisiac properties as well as being beneficial for those engaged in strenuous exercise.

The Iranian Nargesi Esfanaj is the closest modern descendant, though it may well have predated the Arab dish.

This is a recreation of a recipe from The Sultan’s Feast for a date stew with lamb, known as tamriyya (تمرية), in reference to the word for ‘dried date’, tamr (تمر). There is also a variant made with fresh dates (رطب, ruṭab), called ruṭabiyya (رطبية).

The meat is cut into pieces and then boiled before frying it with salt and spices — the recipe requires sheep’s tail fat, but it works with with any oil or fat of your preference. When the meat is almost done, a layer of almond-stuffed dates is added on top. Use some of the same kind of meat, fashion into date-shaped oblong meatballs, and stuff an almond stuffed inside each. A sprinkling of rose water and saffron finished it all off and the pot should be left to simmer down.

A succulent recipe from The Exile’s Cookbook for a leg of lamb with salt, pepper, coriander, fig vinegar, murrī and olive oil. However, it wouldn’t be a medieval Andalusian dish if it did not contain eggs, now would it! In this case, you need five eggs which are beaten together with flour and breadcrumbs into a mixture which serves to coat the meat. The suggested serving is i a bowl, and there really is no reason not to comply with that recommendation! For accompaniments? Well, it goes well with some bread and salad of your liking!

A wonderful and unusual recipe from Mamluk Egypt from The Sultan’s Feast with barberries (Berberis vulgaris), known in Arabic as amīrbārīs (أمير باريس) and anbarbārīs (أنبر باريس), or by their Persian name zirishk (زرشك). The other core ingredients are taro, chard and salted lemons (also from The Sultan’s Feast!). The dish, aptly called amīrbārīsiyya, is actually a variation of a sumac stew (summāqiyya). The author tells us that some people would sweeten it with sugar, though this is by no means necessary. According to the 11th-century Baghdadi pharmacologist Ibn Jazla, this stew (which he calls anbarbārīsiyya) is particularly useful for those with hot temperaments and inflamed livers; it is one of the best astringent dishes, and should be made with pullets and partridges. The Sultan’s Feast also contains a recipe shared with a 13th-century Aleppine collection, for a barberry conserve which, when added to chicken with a bit of mint, is beneficial for diarrhoea.