The more familiar we become with images and stories from Syria that shock, the more essential it is to emphasise the humanity we all share, and how this is often made manifest through food. That’s why I’ve given my support to the book Soup For Syria, as I wrote last week. Every conflict has a food story to tell, and in Food Stories From Syria, a recent Food Programme on Radio 4, Dan Saladino unveiled a few of those stories, told by asylum seekers, aid workers and food writers.
Many of the stories we hear from the region are about a dire lack; but they are also connected by a sense of the pride that people have in relation to the food of their home country, as well as the humility and hospitality that goes into making and sharing it.
Food writer Anissa Helou told Saladino about the shacks in Lebanon into which she has been invited to eat fattoush, a staple Syrian salad made with huge amounts of fresh herbs and toasted bread. Helou described how these shacks, though wrapped in plastic sheeting, are decorated inside with cushions and carpets, to look as much as possible like the homes their inhabitants have been forced to flee.
An aid worker at the Zaatari refugee camp in Jordan discussed how much food meant to Syrians – far more so, he insists, than for many other countries with which the World Food Programme works. Pre-conflict, Syria was a fertile nation, the culinary capital of the Middle East; when the refugees came to Zaatari, their sense of displacement was exacerbated. Mass-produced and flavoured with Jordanian spices rather than Syrian ones, food was yet another way in which their connection to home was being severed.
So changes were made: a voucher system was introduced that allowed people to choose their own food from shops, while Syrian bakers now go daily to Jordanian bakeries to advise on bread for the camp (17 and a half tonnes every day) so that it’s more familiar, and more comforting, to those eating it. These may be only small stories, but they are profound ones.
Spiced minced lamb with spaghetti squash
Spaghetti squash is so called because the flesh separates into spaghetti-like threads. The squash vary in size (mine were just under 20cm long), so you may need more than two. The lamb mix is also great stuffed into other veg, though if you use one that’s naturally sweet, such as Romano peppers, halve the amount of jaggery. Serves four.
1.4kg spaghetti squash
80g bulgur wheat
2 dried ancho chillies, roughly torn (discard the stalk), soaked in 75ml boiling water for 10 minutes
30g jaggery, coarsely grated (or dark muscovado sugar)
1 tsp brined green peppercorns, drained
¾ tsp smoked paprika
¾ tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground cumin
Salt
3 tbsp olive oil
1 large onion, peeled and finely chopped
1 garlic clove, peeled and crushed
500g minced lamb
200g feta, crumbled into 1-2cm pieces
1 tsp dried mint
Heat the oven to 220C/425F/gas mark 7. Put the squash on a baking tray and roast for 50 minutes, turning every 15 minutes or so, until blistered and browned all over. Remove and set aside.
Put the bulgur in a medium bowl and pour over 200ml boiling water. Cover with clingfilm and leave to soak for 15 minutes, until the bulgur has absorbed most of the liquid and is cooked but still retains some bite. Drain and set aside.
Put the soaked ancho and its soaking liquid in a spice grinder or small blender. Add the jaggery, peppercorns, paprika, cinnamon, cumin and a teaspoon of salt, blitz until smooth and set aside.
Pour two tablespoons of oil into a large saute pan on a medium-high heat. Once hot, add the onion and fry for 10 minutes, stirring once in a while, until soft and caramelised. Add the garlic, stir through for a minute, then add the mince and cook for three minutes, breaking it up while you stir, until browned. Stir in the spice paste, add 60ml water and cook for five minutes, stirring frequently, until there’s very little liquid left in the pan and the lamb is cooked. Remove from the heat, stir in the bulgur and set aside.
Mix the feta with the mint and a teaspoon of oil. Cut the squashes in half lengthways and scoop out and discard the seeds. Drizzle the remaining two teaspoons of oil over the squash halves and sprinkle with a quarter-teaspoon of salt in total. Spoon the mince into the cavities, top with the mint and feta and bake for 10 minutes, until the feta has browned. Serve piping hot.
Roast butternut squash with lentils and dolcelatte
The cheese gives this a creamy twist, but if you want to keep it dairy-free, the dish works pretty well without. Serves four as a main course.
1 large butternut squash, unpeeled, trimmed, deseeded and cut into 3-4 cm pieces (950g net weight)
2 red onions, peeled and cut into 3cm-wide wedges
3 tbsp olive oil, plus 2 tsp extra to drizzle
10g sage leaves
Salt and black pepper
100g puy lentils
Finely grated zest of 1 large lemon, plus 2 tbsp lemon juice
1 garlic clove, peeled and crushed
5g parsley leaves, roughly chopped
5g mint leaves, roughly chopped
10g tarragon leaves, roughly chopped
100g dolcelatte, broken up into 2cm pieces (optional)
Heat the oven to 220C/425F/gas mark 7. Put the squash and onion in a large bowl with two tablespoons of oil, the sage leaves, three-quarters of a teaspoon of salt and plenty of pepper. Mix well, then spread out on a parchment-lined baking tray and roast for 25 minutes, until cooked and golden-brown. Set aside to cool for 10 minutes.
While the squash is in the oven, put a medium saucepan half-full of water on a high heat. Once boiling, add the lentils, turn down the heat to medium and simmer for 20 minutes, until cooked. Drain, leave to cool slightly, then place in a large bowl. Add the squash, half the lemon zest, all the lemon juice, the garlic, herbs, a tablespoon of oil and a quarter-teaspoon of salt. Spread out on a large platter (or arrange on individual plates) and dot with the pieces of cheese, if using. Sprinkle with the remaining lemon zest, drizzle with more oil and serve.
Roasted pumpkin soup with harissa and crisp chickpeas
This gorgeous, chunky soup is packed with flavour. Harissa can be quite fiery, so you may not want to use quite as much as I do – just add it to taste. Serves six.
1 small pumpkin or butternut squash, cut in half, seeds removed, peeled and flesh cut into 2cm dice (600g net weight)
90ml olive oil
Salt and black pepper
2-3 banana shallots, peeled and finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, peeled and thinly sliced
2 tsp ground cumin
4 cardamom pods, crushed to release the seeds, outer husks discarded
2½ tbsp harissa paste
½ tsp rose water
1 litre vegetable or chicken stock
2 tins chickpeas, drained and rinsed
7 dried apricots, thinly sliced
1½ small preserved lemons, cut in half, the flesh discarded and the skin roughly chopped
5g coriander leaves, roughly chopped
240g Greek yoghurt
Heat the oven to 220C/425F/gas mark 7. Mix the pumpkin with two tablespoons of oil, a quarter-teaspoon of salt and some pepper. Spread out on a parchment-lined baking tray and roast for 25 minutes, until golden-brown and cooked through, then set aside.
Put two tablespoons of oil in a large saute pan on a medium-high heat. Once hot, fry the shallots for seven to eight minutes, stirring a few times, until soft and caramelised. Add half the garlic, half the cumin, all the cardamom seeds, a teaspoon of salt and plenty of pepper. Fry for two minutes, then stir in the harissa, rose water, stock, half the chickpeas, the apricots and the preserved lemon skin. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat to medium and simmer for five minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the pumpkin.
Put two tablespoons of oil in a medium frying pan on a high heat and, once hot, add the remaining chickpeas, garlic and cumin, a quarter-teaspoon of salt and lots of pepper. Fry for seven minutes, stirring occasionally and crushing some of the chickpeas as you go, until browned and crisp.
Warm the soup through and divide between six bowls. Sprinkle with the chickpea mix, scatter over some coriander, spoon over the yoghurt and serve.
