ABOUT MEZE, MEETINGS, FAITH, AND APPETIZERS: Hummus two ways
Ottoman heritage in the food of the city – part 4
This essay is a continuation of a series, to start from the beginning…
So, going back to the last paragraph of the previous post…
The cuisine that we generally know as cocina árabe came to Mexico mostly from Lebanon (at least initially), but it brought with it the wealth of an ancient people that extends beyond its political and religious borders. There are several reasons why this culture and its cuisine were so easily adopted by the Mexican palate, but there are three that I consider essential, and here they go…
The first one has to do with the scenes that I reproduced in the previous entry and the correspondence of cultural codes between the peoples of the Levant and the Middle East with those of Mexico, in regards to food and its relationship with nature and the cosmos: caring for the land and nature, the importance of edible gardens vs. the importance of the milpa, food as a ritual to celebrate life and death, the exchange of food as the center of human relations —in general— and between those who govern and their people, the medical-magical qualities of food, and, last but not least, food as a defense of identities and as an act of resistance.
Mo has never been to Palestine, but he eats hummus like a true native not only because, as he says, it's in his blood, but also to keep alive the memory of his father and thank him for his sacrifices; on the one hand, and on the other, because it is a way of showing solidarity with the struggle of his people. Eating hummus, for Mo, is a ritual in the strict sense. It is his Hanal Pixán.
The families that migrated from Lebanon to Mexico between the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century, made great sacrifices (just like Mo's), they had to leave a life and loved ones behind, but they also came full of gratitude, hope in the future, and willing —not to form a foreign community in another land— but to fully integrate into the society that was welcoming them, without having to forget about their history and roots. Many good things can come out from the mixtures between cultures, even when they are a result from diasporas that originate in conflicts (food is an indisputable way of verifying it; in contrast to this case, I recommend that you read about the history of Chinese-Mexican cuisine , which did not run with the same luck, and even so, it flourished). Regarding this migration from Lebanon to Mexico, the integration was particularly fast and fertile, because what existed between nations was good faith. In fact, spirituality was another determining factor that facilitated this integration.
As the migrants from Lebanon —mostly— belonged to the Maronite cult (very close to the Church of Rome), and Mexico, was a predominantly Catholic country, the identification of values accelerated the existence of mixed families. According to the historian Rebeca Inclán, thanks to the latter and the learning of the Spanish language in the second generations, inbreeding was maintained for a short time and integration between cultures became very fluid. Said in simple terms, the Maronite families became Guadalupanas and the Mexican church adopted Saint Charbel, who has a much-visited temple in the Cathedral of Our Lady of Balvanera, in the historic center (pictured below), where traditional masses are celebrated in Spanish and Arabic.
The third reason why the assimilation of Ottoman cuisine into the Mexican palate occurred in such an organic way is because this migration from Lebanon to Mexico was not the first time in history that the flavors and techniques of the peoples of Mesoamerica and those of the Near and Middle East met; this had happened, something like 400 years before...
But I'll tell you that story in another post, because I'm hungry and I'm going to start preparing my meze... I'm going to share the recipes for the dishes that will be included in it, in the next few days, and, at the end, we are going to make a falafel and other dishes based on these.
Now, the recipes that I include here are homemade versions of foods so common in the Mexican culinary context, that you can buy them separately —already prepared— in any supermarket and put together a meze like mine in less time. But, if you decide to do it that way, my recommendation is that you don't go to the supermarket, but to the tiendas de productos árabes (like the ones I recommended a few posts ago, or the one nearest to you) and buy the freshly made food that they sell there (or from a restaurant), because, although there are good quality commercial brands of some of these products, in the case of the first one that I present here, for example, it is true (as the protagonist of the series argues) that the flavor of the packaged version with preservatives, is very different to the homemade version (and let’s not even talk about completely unnecessary flavorings —except for chile, chile goes good with everything).
So, here is another poem by Rumi to introduce the star food of this appetizer, which is one of my favorites —both to eat and to prepare— not only from Levantine cuisine, but from all cuisines of the world: hummus. Below, I am sharing two ways to prepare the paste, the difference being merely in terms of the grinding method and the final texture.
CHICKPEA TO COOK
A chickpea leaps almost over the rim of the pot
where it's being boiled.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
The cook knocks him down with the ladle.
"Don't you try to jump out.
You think I'm torturing you.
I'm giving you flavor,
so you can mix with spices and rice
and be the lovely vitality of a human being.
Remember when you drank rain in the garden.
That was for this."
Grace first. Sexual pleasure, then a boiling new life begins,
and the Friend has something good to eat.
Eventually the chickpea
will say to the cook,
"Boil me some more.
Hit me with the skimming spoon.
I can't do this by myself.
I'm like an elephant that dreams of gardens
back in Hindustan and doesn't pay attention
to his driver. You're my cook, my driver,
my way into existence. I love your cooking."
The cook says,
"I was once like you,
fresh from the ground. Then I boiled in time,
and boiled in the body, two fierce boilings.
My animal soul grew powerful.
I controlled it with practices,
and boiled some more, and boiled
once beyond
that, and became your teacher."
TWO WAYS TO MAKE HUMMUS
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