Silk Road Vegetarian. Dahlia Abraham-Klein
staple comfort food in that country.
MY FAMILY’S CULINARY HERITAGE IN CENTRAL ASIA
My paternal great grandfather, known as Amin Kabuli, owned a vinyard in the region that is known today as Samarkand, Uzbekistan. The grapes were transformed into preserves and also wine, which was used locally for the Sabbath or sold for export. In fact, the Rothschild family heard about his renowned wine, and came to Samarkand requesting the seeds of his gigantic jeweled grapes so they could plant them in a vineyard in Israel. (When my paternal grandmother moved to the United States in the 1950s, she continued her family’s ancient tradition of growing grapes and making her own wine. My parents still have wine that she made over 40 years ago.)
In my grandfather’s day, Bukhara was a city in a southern province of Russia. As toddlers, my parents moved with their respective families to Kabul. There, my mother and her six siblings lived in a Jewish quarter, in an inner courtyard with closed gates, along with other families. The kitchen was a communal kitchen, of sorts. In the courtyard was a makeshift clay oven known as a tandoor that everyone used. The women in the courtyard would occasionally meet, serving tea along with a little gossip, a few jokes, and lots of laughter. To add to the congestion, many families kept a lamb and raised chickens in the courtyard to be ritually slaughtered for festive occasions. Large families and communal living demanded a practical solution to the challenge of meal preparation. Silk Road cooks found inspiration in one-pot meals consisting of all the essential ingredients for a balanced diet—not just in Afghanistan, but in Iran and Uzbekistan as well.
Most Westerners think of meat kabobs when they think of Persian and Afghan fare, but in truth, families rarely ate meat at home; it was saved for celebrations and holidays. Thus, Silk Road cooking had a strong vegetarian focus, partly due to the various religions flourishing there that encouraged a vegetarian diet, but chiefly because of economics. Vegetarian food was simply more affordable than meat.
As a result, preserving foods was essential in order to extend the season for all the fruits and vegetables that came to the table. Nearly every home had a big cellar for preserves, while root vegetables were kept covered with earth to preserve their freshness. Nothing went to waste—no composting was necessary, because all kitchen scraps were used as soup bases and fruit scraps were turned into preserves.
Despite the difficulties, a spirit of abundance shone throughout the cuisine. With rice, vegetables, fruit, nuts, and plenty of spices used in combination, there was always plenty to eat.
My mother (third from the left) scooping out a pilou in the 1960s.
Berry-Almond Coconut Scones (page 182) fresh from the oven.
MY FAMILY’S CULINARY HERITAGE IN INDIA
My mother lived in Kabul until she was a teenager, and then moved to Israel in 1949, a year after its founding. My father grew up in Kabul and worked as a tradesman before moving to Peshawar in what would become, when the British granted it independence, Pakistan. In 1947, the war between Pakistan and India prompted my father to move to Bombay, where he remained until he was thirty years old. During that time he visited Israel; he met my mother there, and they married in 1952. India was their home until 1956.
Bombay (now Mumbai) had been another stop for the traders and travelers of the Silk Road, and by the time my parents got there it was a melting pot of cultures, all drawn by the economic potential of this vibrant city. It was only natural that Bombay’s cuisine was as diverse as the country itself; however, there were certain characteristics that were unique to India. Because India was a predominantly Hindu country with a strong respect for life, many people followed the Hindu practice of strict vegetarianism. My newlywed mother quickly incorporated the Indian gastronomy, learning and cooking even more vegetarian dishes, which were prepared with cardamom, cinnamon, cumin, ginger, and mustard seed, to name just a few of the spices in her cabinet.
It was common for Jewish families like mine, with roots on the Silk Road, to trade as merchants. From their headquarters in Kabul, my family operated a diverse business that included the colorful world of gemstones, fabrics, and garments, as well as commodities such as car parts and tires. The business involved intercontinental transactions, so it was necessary to establish offices around the globe. My uncles opened satellite offices in Tokyo, Kobe, Hong Kong, Bombay, Bangkok, Milan, Valencia, Tel Aviv, and Chiasso and Lugano, in Switzerland. At the same time my parents headed for New York, and often traveled to the various world capitals.
MY OWN CULINARY TALE
Because of my father’s work and my family’s frequent travels, my parents absorbed the cultures, languages, tastes, and cuisines of all the places they lived in. They often entertained my father’s business associates, and my mother’s role as matriarch was to host and cook meals that made our guests feel at home. Our live-in helpers also came from diverse cultures and contributed their own favorites to our table. All these experiences influenced our cultural repertoire and expanded our culinary curiosity. The food I grew up with was an intermarriage of exotic tastes from Asian, African, European, Indian, and even some Latin dishes that formed a harmonious and tasty bliss. We were all always learning and sharing our cultures through cuisine.
What was unusual and wonderful about my mother’s cooking was that she was inspired by every culture she encountered and she instinctively knew how to integrate her native mix of Persian, Central Asian, and Indian food into any new cuisine she was learning about. Even before culinary adventurism became popular, she courageously tasted any and every ethnic cuisine she could try, and eventually incorporated them into her own delicious signature dishes.
And so I grew up, a typical New York kid in some ways, and in others a citizen of the world—at least at the table. As an adult, however, I did not follow my mother’s example at first. In traveling frequently and leading the lifestyle of a single New Yorker—with little time for home cooking or eating well—I gradually grew chronically ill, debilitated from a painful ulcer. While in New York, my typical diet was a doughnut in the morning, followed by pizza or a sandwich for lunch, and pasta for dinner. When I look back at those years, I’m astonished that I settled for eating so poorly. Back then, my goal was “eat to live,” and to do so as quickly as possible. Notice that I was not eating “live” foods, but processed quick-and-easy meals designed just to fill me up.
I went to see a conventional gastroenterologist who feebly attempted to correct my diet, suggesting bland foods like dairy and toast, and discouraging spicy foods. He then sent me off with a handful of medications. He did not ask me what my diet was like or what my heritage was; nor did he bother to investigate whether I had any food sensitivities. After months of following the regimen, I was not feeling any better and I decided to consult a holistic nutritionist. The nutritionist urged me to eliminate all wheat, dairy, and sugar from my diet. Ironically, wheat and dairy are precisely what the gastroenterologist had told me to eat! He also told me that I could eat spicy foods because I had grown up on them—that I should eat in harmony with my ancestral cuisine.
My first thought was, “What am I going to eat if I can’t eat wheat, dairy, and sugar?” And yet my body was taxed from years of over-consumption of processed foods. These three ingredients—wheat, dairy, and sugar—were wreaking havoc on my immune system. I plumbed my memories of my mother’s table and found answers in my ancestral cuisine.
Reacquainting myself with the diet of my childhood, which consisted largely of rice, vegetables, fruits, and beans, I discovered that the transformation wasn’t as difficult as I’d anticipated—especially because I felt so much better! My palate sobered up after many years of being “drugged.” I soon began detecting the artificial chemical flavors in processed foods that I’d never noticed before. Another added benefit was that, without the heavy carbohydrates and sugar fogging up my mind, my thinking became sharper. And I found that cooking engaged my spirit. Making healthy choices in the foods I ate was truly liberating.
Inspired to learn more about the link between food and wellness, I studied natural health