When my brother and I were children we spent most weekdays with my grandmother while our parents were off earning a living. This was always an adventure because at 4 feet 11 inches tall Nana was (and is) a force to be reckoned with. You never knew what a day with her would bring: We played practical jokes on my mother (which I imagine was payback for something Mom did as a kid) and studied sign-language with a local deaf community. We ran through the sprinklers at Balboa Park and munched on fresh corn tortillas at the beach. We even went on imaginary archaeological digs in Nana’s backyard, where the three of us would uncover chicken bones beneath the site of a decades-old coop. Moments like this were absolute bliss for my then five-year-old brother because he’d convinced himself that all those bones were actually dinosaur remains. “This is a baby Tyran-ay-sore-US,” he’d proclaim with authority. Indeed, he was so certain of his discoveries that one afternoon we found him flipping through the Yellow Pages looking for a number for the Smithsonian. Never mind that he couldn’t read or that the phone book was nearly as big as him, he had a real find on his hands and was determined to notify the authorities. It took some convincing, but eventually Nana saved some museum clerk a lot of trouble by showing my brother how much better it would be if he sat on this for a while. “Mijo, I think you should wait and see what other bones you uncover,” she advised, “Just imagine the collection you’ll have when you’re six! Why, you may even have an entire dinosaur.” This made good business sense to my brother.

Archeology aside, one of our favorite things to do with Nana was go to the theater. It didn’t matter what movie we saw or where we saw it, rather, we were interested in the contents of Nana’s purse. Like many people (including myself), Nana didn’t believe in the extravagant prices concession stands charge for movie-time treats. However, unlike most people Nana’s idea of good movie snacks included empanadas, tortas and chili bean burritos… not to mention a few cans of soda, chips and dried fruit for good measure. She made everything at home before carefully wrapping each item in tin foil and hiding it at the bottom of her bag. Once the food was properly stored she layered other items on top - a sweatshirt, her book - just in case the ticket clerk at the theater got nosy. All this was very exciting for us kids, as we walked through the theater and took our seats while keeping our anticipation carefully masked behind blank expressions. And then, when the lights went out, you’d hear it… the slow tink-tink of Nana unwrapping a torta for each of us, then the pop of the soda cans. Heads always turned, and once I remember a man saying to his wife “Do you smell fried chicken?”, but we were never caught. When it came to hiding an extraordinary number of items in a simple handbag Nana definitely had Mary Poppins beat.

It’s been some fifteen years since my Nana, brother and I did something like this, but I think this is one memory I would like to bring back to life the next time I visit San Diego. Even now the thought of doing so brings a huge grin to my face, I can just imagine what fun it would be!
Aside from all of us being older (and maybe a little wiser) this time I’d also be able to help Nana prepare our secret stash, which would include some of the old favorites - empanadas, tortas - and perhaps a new thing or two from my own collection of recipes. I think Talaş Böreği would be a good choice, and in fact, it was when I was making a batch of these Turkish meat pies last week that I began thinking about all those afternoons spent with Nana so long ago. With their flaky crust, the aromatic combination of cinnamon and all spice, melted feta, and the subtle sweetness of pine nuts and currants, I’m sure Nana would love them. Indeed, I’d be willing to wager that, if Nana had known about Talaş Böreği way back when, she would have found room for them in her purse.

The recipe below has been slightly adapted from Arabesque, by Claudia Roden. I traded ground meat ’soy meat’ and added feta cheese. The feta gave the dish extra flavor and compensated for the absence of natural fat in soy ‘meat’, some of which is necessary to prevent the filling from becoming too dry. These pies are easy to make ahead of time - you can either assemble and store them in the fridge before baking, or bake them and then reheat the pies in the oven for 10 minutes at 300 degrees F. Don’t use a microwave - trust me. And on a final note, each time I’ve made this recipe I’ve found that at least two burritos worth of filling was left over after assembling the pies. But this isn’t a problem and from my description you know what I did with the extra filling! Nana would approve.

A very old photograph of me with my family. From left: My cousin Monika, me at about 15 years old, Nana, my brother and my cousin Joshua. Can I get a what-what for family photos?
// Edit: For anyone who is curious, there is a more recent photo of me in the About section

Talaş Böreği (Puff Pastry ‘Meat’ Pies with Currants and Pine Nuts)
Adapted from Arabesque, by Claudia Roden.
Ingredients:

• 1 large vidalia onion, chopped
• 2 tablespoons sunflower oil
• 1 pound ground vegetarian ‘meat’ (real ground meat is used in the original recipe)
• About 4 oz of good quality feta cheese
• salt and black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
• 3 tablespoons pine nuts
• 2 tablespoons currants (or small black raisins)
• 4 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley (fresh, not dry)
• 14 ounces puff pastry
• 1 egg, separated

Remove a puff pastry sheet from the freezer and set aside to thaw.

Make the filling. Over medium heat fry the onion in the sunflower oil until soft and golden, about 15 minutes. Add the vegetarian meat, the seasoning, and spices. Cook for about 5 minutes until heated through. (If you are using real ground meat, crush it with a fork after adding it to the pan with the spices, and cook until the meat is no longer pink and the juices have been absorbed.) Stir in the pine nuts, currants or raisins, and chopped parsley, then let the mixture cool.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F.

Cut the puff pastry sheet into 4 pieces of equal size. Roll each piece out into a rectangle large enough to make an eventual flat parcel of about 7 inches x 4 inches. (In other words, your rectangle should be about 14 inches long and 8 inches wide, though you can make it smaller if you want to make smaller pies.) Roll out the pastry on a floured surface with a floured rolling pin, turning the sheets often and dusting them each time with flour. (Be careful not to press down too hard, be gentle, otherwise you’ll risk crushing the layers of pastry dough together.)

When you’ve rolled each piece of dough into your desired shape, crumble about 4 oz of feta and mix it into the meat filling. Place a generous amount of filling onto one half of each rectangle, leaving a 1/2-inch margin around the edges. (The original recipe instructions said to use a quarter of the meat filling per pie, but I found that this amount caused the dough to stretch too much when you folded the other half of the rectangle over. So use whatever amount looks best to you and save leftover filling for burritos!) Brush the edges of the dough with egg white to make them stick together better. Fold the pasty over to cover the filling. Gently press the tines of a fork along the edges to seal and create a pretty pattern, then trim any superfluous pastry around the pie with a knife. Place the pies, turned over with the smooth side up, on an oiled baking sheet and brush the tops with the egg yolk mixed with a drop of water.

Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until puffed up and golden.

Last night we celebrated the first night of Passover at a relative’s house, where I was asked to prepare “a meat dish to introduce guests to new things.” “Nothing too weird,” the hostess told me, “but maybe something that will add some extra culture to the dinner?” Given my penchant for history, folklore and plain ol’ good food I jumped at the chance to bring something new to the Seder. I spent about an hour browsing through my books on African and Israeli cuisine, then flipped through the more esoteric sections of my texts on Jewish cooking. In the end I selected an Ethiopian dish called “Siga Wot,” which is a fragrant beef stew spiced with cloves, turmeric, cardamom, cinnamon and nutmeg. As soon as we arrived at M’s house I began slicing onions and dicing garlic, then added the stew meat and other ingredients to her gorgeous Le Creuset soup pot. An hour and a half later the siga wot was ready, just as the Seder ceremony was wrapping up. We served it after the matzah ball soup and I shared its cultural background while we all chatted about food and flavors and favorite dishes. I’m happy to report that both the siga wot and its story were a hit.

Ethiopian Siga Wot
(View larger image here)

What does Ethiopian cuisine have to to with Jewish cooking you might wonder? Quite a lot actually. Judaism has a long and ancient history in Ethiopia where, according to legend, the Queen of Sheba ruled during the 10th century B.C.E. In the Bible, Kings 10:1-13 tells the story of her visit to the court of King Solomon, who reigned over Israel at the time and was renowned for his great wisdom. Arriving in Jerusalem with a caravan of camels carrying spices, gold and precious stones, she apparently wanted to size the king up by testing his knowledge with difficult questions. The text tells us that “Solomon answered all her questions” then he “gave the Queen of Sheba all she desired” before she returned to her own country. This latter part of the story, the part where the queen received everything she wished, has often been interpreted as a reference to a sexual encounter. Indeed, some have maintained that the Queen of Sheba conceived a child by Solomon, and in the Middle Ages a text known as the Kebra Nagast elaborated upon this tradition, writing that the queen’s son by Solomon eventually became Menelik I, the first Emperor of Ethiopia. Other legends connecting Ethiopia and Judaism maintain that Ethiopian Jews, collectively known as “Beta Israel” (The House of Israel), are descended directly from Moses or from the Tribe of Dan. They share many of the beliefs associated with traditional Judaism, including the observance of Shabbat and the biblical holidays.

In “A World of Jewish Cooking,” author Gil Marks quotes an Ethiopian native named David Solomon as saying: “Because of poverty… many Westerners believe that Ethiopian dining is a contradiction in terms. However,” he continues, “the Beta Israel possess a simple but tasty cuisine making use of sparse resources… Ours is a peasant cuisine, simple but flavorful.” Ethiopians generally eat two meals a day - breakfast and dinner, with snacks of roasted corn kernels or seeds in between. Vegetable wots (stews) are common for breakfast, while meat, if available, is usually reserved for the evening meal. A pancake bread called injera is a popular accompaniment, though of course I couldn’t make that for Passover since it’s made with flour. Injera is made in large batches and can be up to one and a half feet in diameter. Each guest pulls off a piece of the bread, scoops wot into it, then folds it between their fingers before popping the whole thing into their mouths.

An Ethiopian woman making injera (source)

With its warm flavor and succulent texture siga wot is an easy dish to try if you’re looking for something new to do with the beef (or lamb) sitting in your refrigerator. It’s also an excellent conversation starter, which is always a desirable quality if you ask me.

Siga Wot
Adapted from “A World of Jewish Cooking” by Gil Marks.
Ingredients: Serves 6

• 5 large yellow onions, chopped
• 1/3 cup olive or vegetable oil (I used olive oil)
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 teaspoon minced fresh ginger ( I used 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger)
• 1 cup tomato sauce
• 1 cup water
• 1 1/2 pounds boneless beef or lamb chuck, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
• 1/4 teaspoon ground turmeric
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1/8 teaspoon grated nutmeg, fresh if possible
• 1/8 teaspoon ground black pepper

In a dry large skillet or a large soup pot over medium heat, cook the onions, stirring constantly, until they begin to soften, about 3 minutes.

Add the oil. When the oil begins to sputter, add the garlic and ginger and saute until fragrant, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the tomato sauce and 1/2 cup of the water. Bring to a boil and cook, stirring constantly, until the liquid is reduced to the consistency of heavy cream, about 8 minutes.

Add the meat, tossing until well coated, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the remaining 1/2 cup water, the salt, and the spices. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer until the meat is tender, about 1 hour (I let it simmer for 1 1/2 hours, stirring occasionally). Add a little more water if the liquid reduces too much.

Note: Susan asked if you can also make this dish with chicken and the answer is: yes! You can also make a chicken wot, called “Doro Wot,” using the same ingredients - except for the beef, of course. Instead use 1 three to four pound chicken, cut into about 12 pieces. A few hardboiled eggs (4 or 5) are often added to chicken wots too. Add them whole, piercing numerous 1/2 inch deep holes along the sides of each egg. Place the eggs in the wot right before it is served, tossing to coat well.