Ramadan
began last week. I have some Muslim friends on Facebook, so I see lots of
“Ramadan kareem!” messages going back and forth.
The Islamic
months don’t correspond to the seasons as ours do; their year is roughly 354 days
long, so Ramadan happens roughly twelve days earlier every year. In 1984, my
first year in Morocco, the first day of Ramadan was roughly the first of June.
(There was some trouble that year. It’s not officially a new month until the
new moon is sighted in Mecca, and the weather was bad that year in Saudi Arabia.
Finally, around the third or fourth of June 1984, Ramadan was declared to be
officially begun, almost by default.)
Summer is a
bad time for Ramadan, and June is the worst of all, because June days are the
longest days of the year. Muslims are enjoined to fast from the time in the
morning when it’s light enough “to distinguish a black thread from a white
thread” to the prayer-call at sunset. “Fasting,” in this sense, means no
eating, no drinking water (very devout Muslims won’t swallow when they’re
brushing their teeth, and there’s a lot of spitting in the street going on,
because swallowing your own spit might qualify as drinking), no sex, no smoking
(tragic in a culture like North Africa where everyone smokes).
That first
year, in 1984, I tried to fast. I couldn’t do it. I realized, after two or
three days, that no one could see me eating during the day if I just closed the
window blinds.
Later, in
Tunisia, I was more casual. I knew I was a “kouffar” (unbeliever), and so did
everyone else, so I closeted myself in my office and smoked and drank water and
coffee to my heart’s content. One of my Tunisian coworkers, who’d studied
extensively in Europe and who was very worldly, joined me.
Then, a day
or two later, someone else joined us.
After about
two weeks, the whole office was smoking with me, on and off. It was okay,
because they were with an unbeliever, and I was exerting an undue irreligious influence
on them.
Ah, kids, those
were the days.
There was a
restaurant in Tunis not far from our house, which was also not far from the
az-Zeituna mosque, one of the most famous mosques in Tunisia. During Ramadan,
about fifteen minutes before sunset, we’d go there. They’d seat us and serve us
soup.
But no one
ate.
We waited
for the boy at the mosque to give us the signal that the evening call to prayer
was complete.
Then, in
unison, we all dipped our spoons into our delicious thick chicken / tomato /
chickpea soup, and broke our fast.
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Makes about 12 cups
·
1 whole chicken breast, halved
·
4 cups chicken broth
·
4 cups water
·
a 28-to 32-ounce can whole tomatoes, drained
and puréed coarse
·
1/4 teaspoon crumbled saffron threads
·
2 medium onions, chopped fine
·
19-ounce can of chick-peas, rinsed
·
1/2 cup raw long-grain rice
·
1/2 cup lentils
·
3/4 cup finely chopped fresh coriander
·
3/4 cup finely chopped fresh parsley leaves
·
dried chick-peas, picked over water
In a heavy kettle (at least 5 quarts) simmer chicken in broth and
water 17 to 20 minutes, or until chicken is just cooked through, and transfer
chicken with a slotted spoon to a cutting board. Add to kettle tomatoes,
saffron, onions, chick-peas, rice, and lentils and simmer, covered, 30 minutes,
or until lentils are tender. Shred chicken, discarding skin and bones, and stir
into soup with salt and pepper to taste. Soup may be prepared 4 days ahead
(cool uncovered before chilling covered).
Also: if you
make this soup, serve it with lots of Italian or French bread, for scooping and
dipping.
And if you
don’t feel like cooking soup the long way, especially during this long dismally
hot summer, I’ve discovered that Campbell’s makes some very nice soups in
plastic bags, which are pretty authentic. Their “Moroccan Chicken with Chickpeas” is a very passable Moroccan shorba,
verging on harira.
Pinch a
penny and spend a couple of bucks and buy a packet of it, and enjoy it.
With some
Italian bread, and a lemon wedge to squeeze into it.
Ramadan kareem.
