May 15 2018
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Cold Sophie, Ramadan, The Ice Saints

Ramadan & the Ice Saints

With tonight’s new moon this 15th of May, the holy month of Ramadan begins. For those of the Muslim faith, it is a month of prayer, almsgiving, and most especially fasting. During the daylight hours, not even water is taken. But this daily period of deprivation is rewarded once the sun has set with good nighttime meals. A common food to break the fast each night is Harira, a traditional Moroccan soup made from chickpeas, lentils, tomatoes, and onions in a broth spiced with cinnamon, ginger, turmeric, chiles, and cumin. Harira is served all year long, but it is especially plentiful at Ramadan. I plan on making some this week, and maybe you’d like to, as well. There are many variations, some with meat, some vegetarian, some with egg and some with noodles, and all manner of spices. But here’s the recipe I’ll be using:

H A R I R A
1 onion, chopped finely
Olive oil
1 can chickpeas, rinsed and drained
8 cups chicken broth
1 cup dried red lentils
2 cans chopped tomatoes
Dried chiles, for a little heat (or 1 teaspoon chili powder)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon ginger
1 teaspoon turmeric
Salt & Pepper
Flat leaf parsley, chopped
Lemon wedges

In a large pot, cook the onion in some olive oil until it is translucent. Add the chickpeas and the broth. Bring to a boil, then add the lentils, tomatoes, and spices. Season with salt & pepper to taste. Bring to a boil again and simmer for a half hour or so, until the lentils are mushy and the soup has thickened. Ladle into bowls, finishing off each serving with a bit of fresh olive oil, chopped parsley, and a lemon wedge for squeezing. This recipe makes about 6 to 8 servings.

In places like Morocco, this simple yet hearty soup is often the first thing folks take to break their fast with the setting sun. It is a bit of spiritual and physical nourishment. Other wonderful things follow, and often the feasting goes on well into the night. And then to bed… until the tabbal, the drummer, wends his way through the dark and empty streets to awaken everyone for the final meal before sunrise, usually bread with mint tea. And so each day goes in this month of fasting until the next new moon.

This year, the start of Ramadan coincides with the arrival of Cold Sophie, who, according to German legend, brings a blast of cold weather, winter’s last hurrah. But they say it’s been such a long and cold winter that I’m not going to give Sophie any attention at all. She and her fellow Ice Saints have had a ball of it this year, so enough of that. She can have some Harira with us if she wants, but that’s it. We’ve got our sights set on summer.

Image: My husband may be a potter, but I still can’t help buying bowls I like from other potters, too. These porcelain bowls are brand new additions to our collection. They’re by local potter Nena Escobar. I found them just last week, and I suspect we’ll be eating Harira out of them this week. Oh and if you do want to read more about Cold Sophie and the Ice Saints, well… here’s an earlier Book of Days chapter about them.

 

May 13 2018
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Mother's Day

Our Mothers

It was Pizza Night on Saturday––homemade pizza that my mom and sister made from scratch. My grandma used to do this when I was a boy and it was a very big production back then: I would watch as Grandma measured the flour and salt out onto the wooden board and form it into a well; the yeast, proofed in warm water, would go into the well, and then Grandpa would hold the board steady while Grandma mixed and kneaded the dough, by hand. It took muscle and strength. It seemed every baking project began this way, whether it was pizza or taralli or macaroni or the crustilli at Christmas.

Nowadays the dough-making is easier––my mom and sister use the big stand mixer on the kitchen counter. One result, maybe, is we have these things more often. But still it’s special anytime there is homemade pizza or homemade anything. My family truly uses food as an expression of love. Sitting down for a meal––especially a Sunday dinner, as we will today, for Mother’s Day––comes with an understanding that it is an event that will last for hours. There is always abundance and we are always well fed and fully loved. I’m sure there are psychologists who will find this unhealthy, but this is the way of my family. And when you get right down to it, it is the core of the Convivio way of doing things. Mangia is our mantra.

Mother’s Day here will revolve around the table, which is no surprise. We will gather and we will celebrate all of the mothers in our lives, being thankful for each of them, whether they are with us now or not, and whether they are mothers we were given or mothers that we chose. The definition can be very open. Certainly all of the women who took part in raising me––mother, grandmothers, sister, aunts, and more––all have played their part. How wonderful to be part of that community.

Image: India, Luisa, Marietta, Carmela––mothers and daughters––at Saturday night’s pizza party.

 

May 10 2018
4 Comments
Ascension Day

Tissington’s Well Dressing

Today is the moveable feast of the Ascension of the Lord, which is of Book of Days interest mainly for a quirky tradition in one part of the world: The dressing of water wells in England, particularly at Tissington. And by dressing we mean fancy dressing, dressing to the nines, as they say. At various times over the course of the summer, wells throughout England are decked out in flowers, moss, and other plant life in beautiful scenes… but at Tissington, it is always at Ascension Day. Clay is used to set flower petals and other items from nature into beautiful scenes. Traditionally they were biblical scenes, but nowadays the wells are decked out in all manner of interesting imagery.

The Feast of the Ascension is traditionally celebrated on the 40th day of Easter, and so it is always on a Thursday. It marks the day of the bodily ascension of the risen Christ into heaven. No particular connection to that event seems to connect to the Tissington well dressings, which some say go back to a 17th century drought in England, for throughout the fearful drought of 1615, the wells of Tissington flowed, and it is thought that the custom of Ascension Day well-dressing began then in thanksgiving for clean water. Others suggest the practice goes back much further, back to the days of Roman rule in England, suggesting more Pagan origins to the custom. As with most customs that go back a long, long ways, no one really knows how the custom began. Its origins are a watery mystery.

“In consequence of this questionable origin, whether Pagan or Popish,” wrote the Chambers Brothers in their 19th century Book of Days, “we have heard some good but straightlaced people in Derbyshire condemn the well-dressing greatly, and express their astonishment that so many should give it their countenance, by assembling at Tissington.” Straightlaced people, however, are rarely very interesting. Luckily, the dressing of wells at Tissington is, to this day, a spectacular local event that begins on the eve of Ascension Day, lasting for but a week or so. Like so many good lessons, it is a celebration of nature and the ephemeral.

Image: One of the water wells at Tissington dressed for Ascension Day last year.

 

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