Cooking in the Midst of Uncertainty
This doesn’t photograph well! I wish I’d had some pomegranate seeds for color!
Some months back, while searching the internet for something else, I stumbled upon the Cook the Books club (link here), which bills itself as “A Bimonthly Foodie Book Club Marrying the Pleasures of Reading and Cooking.” The founding members select books – either fiction or non-fiction – that have food and cooking as a focus. Participants have two months to read and cook and write a blog post about the book. Some books have recipes, some do not, but all inspire kitchen creativity!
The book for February and March has been a novel, Pomegranate Soup, by Marsha Mehran, that tells a story of three sisters who, having escaped from Iran during the revolution, are now trying to settle into a new life in a small town in Ireland.
To be honest, this is not sophisticated literature. But these days I’m perfectly happy to read something that doesn’t require intense focus. That is not to say, however, that everything is pleasant and happy in this story. Refugee stories, whether in print or not, all share tremendous fears – as well as tremendous hopes – and this tale is no exception.
This past Saturday was, for many synagogues, National Refugee Shabbat. As we participated via Zoom, one of the things that I thought about, connected with the Torah portion for the week, was what refugees bring with them as they move from place to place, their most precious possessions.
In addition to the tangible, their treasured possessions, refugees and migrants bring the intangible, the knowledge of culture and food, to new homes in new lands, and this is the aspect of Pomegranate Soup that brings it to Cook the Books, as each chapter begins with a recipe that will figure into the story in some way.
As I was reading this novel, there was a scene in a crowded pub, and the thought went through my head, “Why are all these people out in a group together?” Already the fears of viral spread had become ingrained in my thinking, and I have wondered when and how will I feel comfortable being with people again, touching the door handle of a store again? And these fears – albeit real – are so insignificant compared to the fears that refugees carry with them. I speak from a place of privilege, to be sure. I am warm, my pantry is well-stocked, I have no fear of violence. But I want to remember to extrapolate from these feelings right now, how much more difficult it is for those fleeing the horrors that force people to leave their homelands, and how much they have to work to leave those fears behind.
And that brings me back to Pomegranate Soup. The youngest of the three sisters remembers less of the trauma, and her part of the novel focuses on more typical, yet difficult, teenage dramas, whereas the older sisters carry those fears with them and work to shed those feelings to create a new life in a new place.
Turning to the recipes, there was not a single one for which I had all the ingredients at home, and, trying to minimize shopping trips, I didn’t want to venture out for anything. But I felt I could improvise enough for the fesenjoon. I have read many times about this iconic chicken stew with walnuts and pomegranates, and always wanted to make it. Despite all the changes and substitutions I made, it was fantastic! I will give my version here, but I am sure most Persian cooks will be appalled as I had to make so many changes, so I highly recommend you google recipes. It is often spelled fesenjan.
Elizabeth’s Social-Distance-Adapted Fesenjoon
This recipe serves 2 generously – we ate very bit of it – and can certainly be doubled.
4 ounces walnuts, chopped
Olive oil as needed
2 small onions, sliced
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken, cut into cubes (I had thighs, the original called for breasts)
¼ cup pomegranate molasses thinned with ¾ cup water
½ teaspoon salt
Fresh ground black pepper
⅛ teaspoon ground cinnamon (oddly, this was not in the recipe given in the book, but was in the narrative so I added it)
1 teaspoon sugar
1 Tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Process the walnuts in a food processor until finely chopped, about 30 seconds. Be sure not to let it become a paste. For this small amount, I used a mini food processor. Heat about a tablespoon of olive oil in a small skillet over medium heat until shimmering and fragrant. Sauté the walnuts for about 5 minutes, stirring constantly to prevent them from burning. Turn off heat, stir to cool as the heat retained in the pan could cause the nuts to burn, and set aside.
Heat about 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a deep pot over medium-high heat until shimmering and fragrant. (I used a small Dutch oven.) Sauté the onions and chicken, stirring frequently for about 10 minutes until beginning to brown.
Add all the remaining ingredients and the walnuts, and simmer for 45 minutes, or until the sauce thickens. Check and stir occasionally to make sure it doesn’t reduce too much or start to stick to the bottom and burn. (I lost track of time and it simmered for a bit too long and the walnut oil separated a bit from the sauce, but it was still delicious.) Garnish with pomegranate seeds, if possible, and serve with rice.