Such silliness, I'm sure you are saying. And you would be right! My little shopping excursion turned out to be one of those unique and impressing moments where you truly feel that the world is small and must be intertwined by one Being. The simple JOY of food can chisel away effortlessly at barriers of religion or culture or misunderstanding that seems to plague us all too often.
I entered the store to find an older Afghani man standing to the side sipping tea, and he gazed at me with the same uncertainty and apprehension I had upon entering the store. I quickly grabbed a basket and scanned the store for a safe place to locate myself while I figured out what to buy from my list. Sidling up near the "bulk" section, I noticed a common middle eastern snack that I was pleasantly surprised to find: toasted chickpeas. It seemed like a perfect, healthy snack to give the kids, and I was very curious of it's flavor. So I grabbed a plastic baggy and began filling.
A man behind the counter, who appeared to be in charge, asked if he could help me find something. "Well, I have a long list," I replied.
"You tell me what on your list. I find," he replied abruptly. So I quickly scanned for something I was committed to buying and asked for Bulgur. "Many kinds of this we have. What kind you need?"
"You tell me what on your list. I find," he replied abruptly. So I quickly scanned for something I was committed to buying and asked for Bulgur. "Many kinds of this we have. What kind you need?"
"I don't know. Maybe some fine and some coarse." (In the mideast, there are various dishes that use different coarseness of bulgur wheat ranging from very fine to very coarse.)
"What do you mean, you don't know? Do you cook our food?"
"I'm learning!"
"Who teaches you?"
"Me. A cookbook I have..." I stumble.
"Your husband. He is middle eastern?"
"No..." I say, feeling almost guilty about it.
"No..." I say, feeling almost guilty about it.
"Do you move there?"
"No."
"I don't understand. Why do you want to cook this way?"
"I'm just, I've really liked the middle eastern food I've had, and so I want to cook it and learn about it. Maybe you can help me pick out good things?"
And then, a smile, an almost full-out grin actually. The owner, who I later found out was named Rahim, was absolutely delighted that I liked the food and wanted to know more. He shared one of his favorite recipes: lamb over rice with carrots, raisins, almonds, and pistachios. He couldn't remember the name, but he told me to look up Afghani food on the internet!
"No."
"I don't understand. Why do you want to cook this way?"
"I'm just, I've really liked the middle eastern food I've had, and so I want to cook it and learn about it. Maybe you can help me pick out good things?"
And then, a smile, an almost full-out grin actually. The owner, who I later found out was named Rahim, was absolutely delighted that I liked the food and wanted to know more. He shared one of his favorite recipes: lamb over rice with carrots, raisins, almonds, and pistachios. He couldn't remember the name, but he told me to look up Afghani food on the internet!
Another one of his favorites, which after he said it's name, I wrote down as "branhi", was eggplant sauteed and then topped with kashk (or kishk) mixed with garlic and salt. I searched this term after I got home, and he may have been saying "borani", which is an extremely common appetizer in the mideast. Basically it's a blend of yogurt and vegetables, and you can honestly use whatever veggie you like. The most typical ones to pair with yogurt are eggplant, beets, and spinach. The yogurt is drained for a few hours so that it will be thick. Rahim pointed me to kashk, which is a dried whey used to thicken and enliven the flavor of soups and stews. He may have been referring to the same concept.
He helped me pick out spices, and instead of buying individual ones, he handed me garam masala - an Indian spice - and said this would work. He told me that he sprinkles a little of this on almost everything, that everyone in Afghanistan uses this. The ingredients are very similar to mideast Seven Spice, which I'll blog about later.
While his son was freshly grinding some beef for me and slicing some chicken breast, he gave me a cup of green tea fused with crushed cardamom pods. It was lovely. Earlier, while Rahim was with another customer, the intimidating older gentleman from when I first arrived watched me as I tried figuring out what a bag with little dried, pruned-up like, green pods was. His apprehensive demeanor quickly changed to a knowing and pleased look as he ripped the bag open and urged me to eat. After a few guesses, I was able to figure it out: cardamom.
This gentleman, who seemed to know very little English, was please that I had recognized the spice. He proceeded to help me fill other bags from the bulk section, urging me to try each one first, then holding the top open for the ones I chose. It was the extent of our exchange, and he left shortly after, but I wondered where he went. What does he do in our town? Does he have family here?
Another man came in at one point, said "Shalom", and enjoyed a cup of tea with Rahim. They discussed a recipe, going through all the ingredients they would use and how to cook it. When his cup was finished, they said their goodbyes and he left. He didn't buy anything.
As I checked out my overflowing basket of foods, Rahim kept advising his son to "discount, discount." I believe he probably gave me many things at 25 to 50% off. While I was picking things out, he would encourage me to choose the one I want, and he'd give me the same price even if I chose the more expensive one.
And so we've been cooking and eating all week with these scrumptious treasures found at the Afghan World Market, and I'll be posting those up for you shortly. The food is scrumptious, and from what I experienced, the people are sincere.
He helped me pick out spices, and instead of buying individual ones, he handed me garam masala - an Indian spice - and said this would work. He told me that he sprinkles a little of this on almost everything, that everyone in Afghanistan uses this. The ingredients are very similar to mideast Seven Spice, which I'll blog about later.
Rahim was conservative, too, telling me not to rush into buying too much. He advised that I try a little of some things first, and then I can come back for more. "Don't spend too much," he urged.
While his son was freshly grinding some beef for me and slicing some chicken breast, he gave me a cup of green tea fused with crushed cardamom pods. It was lovely. Earlier, while Rahim was with another customer, the intimidating older gentleman from when I first arrived watched me as I tried figuring out what a bag with little dried, pruned-up like, green pods was. His apprehensive demeanor quickly changed to a knowing and pleased look as he ripped the bag open and urged me to eat. After a few guesses, I was able to figure it out: cardamom.
This gentleman, who seemed to know very little English, was please that I had recognized the spice. He proceeded to help me fill other bags from the bulk section, urging me to try each one first, then holding the top open for the ones I chose. It was the extent of our exchange, and he left shortly after, but I wondered where he went. What does he do in our town? Does he have family here?
Another man came in at one point, said "Shalom", and enjoyed a cup of tea with Rahim. They discussed a recipe, going through all the ingredients they would use and how to cook it. When his cup was finished, they said their goodbyes and he left. He didn't buy anything.
As I checked out my overflowing basket of foods, Rahim kept advising his son to "discount, discount." I believe he probably gave me many things at 25 to 50% off. While I was picking things out, he would encourage me to choose the one I want, and he'd give me the same price even if I chose the more expensive one.
And so we've been cooking and eating all week with these scrumptious treasures found at the Afghan World Market, and I'll be posting those up for you shortly. The food is scrumptious, and from what I experienced, the people are sincere.