As we all know, food is intricately connected with our emotions and memories. Its associations have the power to make us feel all sorts of things whenever it sparks our senses. The smell of tomato soup, for instance, always takes me back to my elementary school cafeteria and my first grade teacher whom I adored; the sight of a homemade apple pie makes me think of family Thanksgivings; and to me, biting into a crisp, sweet slice of watermelon equals summer.
The sensual knowledge of Afghan food used to enhance emotions in A Thousand Splendid Suns was all but lost on me. Since my familiarity with that cuisine didn’t extend much beyond the kebab, I was curious to learn a little more about shalqam, mantu, gaaz, and other delicacies so lovingly described in the book. Just finding out what these dishes were and what they looked like really intensified the story for me (and made me want to seek out the nearest Afghan restaurant!).
Is it just me, or do you have a similar experience when you read the scenes below and are able to connect words to images? What’s your favorite food memory? If you’re familiar with Afghan food, tell us about your favorite dish!
Making naan in a tandoor
“They made the bread together. Nana showed her how to knead dough, how to kindle the tandoor and slap the flattened dough onto its inner walls.”
(Type of bread = nan, a thin, long, oval-shaped flatbread; tandoor = a clay oven.)
Shalqam stew
“Nana taught her to sew, too, and to cook rice and all the different toppings: shalqam stew with turnip, spinach sabzi, cauliflower with ginger.”
(Shalqam = Persian turnip; sabzi = combination of fresh herbs such as basil, cilantro, tarragon, dill, etc.)
Kichiri
“And so there was Gul Daman’s leader, the village arbab, Habib Khan, a small-headed, bearded man with a large belly who came by once a month or so, tailed by a servant, who carried a chicken, sometimes a pot of kichiri rice, or a basket of dyed eggs for Mariam.”
(Kichiri = a dish made with medium-grain rice like basmati, mixed with onions, mung beans, spices, and minced garlic.)
Daahl
“[S]he put before him a steaming bowl of daahl and a plate of steaming white rice. This was the first meal she had cooked for him, and Mariam wished she had been in a better state when she made it. She’d still be shaken from the incident at the tandoor as she’d cooked, and all day she had fretted about the daahl’s consistency, its color, worried that he would think she’d stirred in too much ginger or not enough turmeric.”
(Daahl = lentil stew.)
Shorwa
“You’re staying for lunch?” Tariq said. “You have to,” said his mother. “I’m making shorwa.”
(Shorwa = traditional soup served ladled over bread.)
Mantu ready for its yogurt and mint topping
“With unsettling energy, Mammy set about cooking: aush soup with kidney beans and dried dill, kofta, steaming hot mantu drenched with fresh yogurt and topped with mint.”
(Aush = Afghan noodle soup; kofta = meatballs; mantu = steamed dumplings filled with beef or lamb.)
Qurma--yum!
“All around them, women bolted in and out of the kitchen, carried out bowls of qurma, platters of mastawa, loaves of bread, and arranged it all on the sofrah spread on the living-room floor.”
(Qurma = braised meat or vegetables cooked with spices and yogurt; mastawa = short-grain rice with lamb, chickpeas, and yogurt.)
Halwa
“[Mariam and Laila] sat on folding chairs outside and ate halwa with their fingers from a common bowl.”
(Halwa = melt-in your-mouth dessert of thick consistency that is made from vegetables like red pumpkins, squash, or carrots.)
Jalebi without the powdered sugar
“Mariam saw two men sitting on leather chairs, rifles and a coffee table between them, sipping black tea and eating from a plate of syrup-coated jalebi, rings sprinkled with powdered sugar. She thought of Aziza, who loved jalebi, and tore her gaze away.”
(Jalebi = swirls of deep fried batter soaked in hot syrup scented with saffron and rosewater.)
If you want to try your hand at cooking some of these enticing dishes, here’s a really wonderful site called “Afghan Cooking Unveiled” to inspire you: http://www.afghancooking.net/ (if you do cook something, please post pictures of your creation on our blog!).
Dr. Martha Bari, Director, First Year Experience
There’s no doubt about it, food is tied to memory, and special foods conjure up special memories. I fondly remember my Armenian mother-in-law’s manti (many dishes in Afghanistan and the Caucasus have hopped many borders, merely changing their spelling a bit). I seem to recall she served them in a soup, much like aush, and they were smaller. Then there was kufteh (kofta), in meat and lentil versions … These experiences must have set the stage (or table?) for my later love of Afghan cooking. I think if I read A Thousand Splendid Suns, my stomach would be gurgling the whole time.
One interesting thing I noticed about the novel is that the women were always the ones doing the cooking, and it was a monumental part of their role to be the cooks and servers for the men. In my home, my father enjoys cooking meals and serving special food presentations to family and guests, so I have grown up with the idea that it is common for men to be in the kitchen. Clearly that is not the case in the book. Reading about the foods in Afghanistan did not make me want to try them, however I did a research project on Iranian food in the past, and it was very interesting to see how types of food, and actual methods of presentation and serving, are important ties to the specific culture. For Mariam and Laila, pleasing the men they served was stressful and food they prepared was never meeting Rasheed’s expectations. The punishment of having to bite down on rocks, for example, might have Mariam cringe at the thought of eating rice ever again.