The Middle East with Ketchup

After some dithering I setttled on a generic 'Middle East' as our first port of call. This is because I have always loved the mix of meat and fruit especially if there are nuts to be sprinkled on top too. We have occasionally had a 'turkey and apricot bake' stumble into our weekly repertoire but it is usually greeted with dismay. As the majority of my working life is spent thinking about Palestine and Israel it felt the right place to start. I would happily eat my way through Claudia Rosen's Middle Eastern Cookery but Makloub looked pretty tricky and anyway most recipes are so complicated you have to practically kill the chicken yourself. The much slimmer Arab-Israeli Cook Book (Robin Soans) has nice stories but I couldn't get excited about the food. I'm happy to put a bit of extra effort but I don't want to cook for 2 hours only to struggle to convince anyone to eat it. A quick google search lifted a simplified 'Middle Eastern' style dish, which I should think no person of Middle Eastern heritage would even recognise. 

Before long a wonderful smell was wafting around the kitchen and the humous, pitta bread, and pickled veg was on the table.

The Eldest was busy trying to find a Middle Eastern grace for dinner and I was trying to hunt down a beautiful CD of Palestinian folk music. The boys were a bit disappointed that I had set out a fork but delighted to see no knives accompanying them - if a fork and spoon is good enough in the West Bank it was good enough for us for our pretend Palestinian meal. I was rather lamenting the fact that we gave away our broken 'nargile' (hookah) but maybe I should not be resorting to narcotic substances in this experiment to improve my children's diet.


THE DISH

Persian chicken with apricots and saffron  

• 1 pint of chicken stock

• 12 strands of saffron

• 1 large onion

• 1 oz butter

• 1 tablespoon of olive oil

• 1 teaspoon of ground cinnamon

• 4 chicken breasts on bone

• 4 oz dried apricots halves

• 1 oz sultanas

• 2 ox almonds

• Salt and pepper

1. Bring the chicken stock to the boil. Stir in saffron and simmer for a few minutes. Meanwhile chop the onion and add to melted butter and olive oil in a medium heated pan.

2. Once softened, add cinnamon and after heating through, place the mixture on to a plate.

3. Using the hot pan add the chicken breasts and brown them. Return the onion mixtures along with apricots, sultanas, almonds and black pepper, before pouring over the saffron and chicken stock. Boil up then reduce to simmer for 50 minutes.

The recipe adds, ominously at the bottom of the page: Please note this recipe has not been tested professionally. Like the Come Dine With Me contestants, you could be creating a culinary delight or dining disaster.

That's 'reality TV' for you. Finding a cliff hanger in a pot of stew. Well, sorry to break it to you guys, but this recipe has now been professionally tested by two Class A fussy eaters and one nearly 11 year old vegetarian and I am happy to tell you it is a culinary delight.

THE REACTION

It was not all plain sailing. The Youngest (aged 6) gets extremely grumpy when he is hungry and will quite regularly roll around on the floor when he finds out what's for dinner crying 'I HATE xxx'. I have noticed that this is usually avoided if he has hors d'oeuvres aka a bit of something in his tummy before the actual meal begins. So the humous came in handy when the rolling ritual began. Not that he likes humous, natch', but the pitta bread went down a treat. Middle is happy with a chicken bone so no complaints from that quarter and the Eldest had already run upstairs to pull on the ancient, authentic Middle Eastern (could be Syrian thanks to Farmor's childhood there) embroidered frock from our dressing up box. We turned the bad YouTube recording of some Dabke dance up to 'tinny-loud like it's coming from a West Bank bus radio' and tucked in. 

THE VERDICT

• Youngest: First I liked it then I loved it! (I had to remind him that actually first of all he complained a great deal).
• Mum: I love the mix of meat and fruit. The Youngest agrees. But then I realise the boys have tomato ketchup on their plates. Who snuck the ketchup out without asking??? In my desperation for my culinary experiment to work I pretend not to mind too much. 

A great spin off from the eating itself was the conversation. Plenty of interest around saffron (which I mistakenly told them was more expensive than gold.. Middle one says 'Then how can you afford to use it?' Good point.) and that they might be eating something similar in Syria ('Though not at the moment as they're in a war'). I loved the fact that we talked about the fact that most of their Muslim friends would be able to understand the Arabic spoken in these 'Middle Eastern' countries and that we had a mini geography lesson too, needing, obviously, to find out exactly where 'Persia' is ... and the fact we couldn't find it on a map should have lead into a mini geo-political lecture from me about (probably?) colonialism, world domination and the changing nature of language and borders. That one was a bit beyond me to be honest.

PUDDING

• Eldest: Loved it! We listened to Arabic music. Apart from the raisins and apricots this was an ideal veggie meal! (Thank the Lord for Quorn fillets and the fact she doens't mind if I cook it in with the meat).
• Middle: It's brilliant I would give it 10 out of 10.

I don't pretend to be organised enough for pudding most nights of the week. But in the wonderful MFR veg shop on Chatsworth Road I had spotted the new season's blood oranges. Simply cut on a plate they were not only easy to deliver (phew) but beautiful, delicious and a taste of sunshine.

The Middle One says 'Can we go to India next week? I can't wait to go to India.' He 'hates' curry but I think he's heard they mostly eat with their fingers in India. But cynicism aside our first Travelling Tuesday truly felt like a total triumph. I cannot tell you how miraculous it felt getting Youngest to eat such a meal - not just with minimum fuss but with active and positive engagement. Curry next week? Bring it on...