Classic Vegetarian Cookery

Acknowledgements

My grateful thanks to all the authors, editors, translators and publishers from whose works I have quoted (see Bibliography). If, unwittingly, some have not been mentioned — my deepest apologies.

Thanks are due also to all those whose advice and help was sought in the preparation of this book.

I am particularly grateful to the following people for their help and suggestions: the proprietors of ‘Amee Supermarket’ in Manchester, Mr Kantilal and Mr Ashok D. Vara; Mr Nori Shibahara of Mina-Japan restaurant, Manchester; Ms Lea Marjatta Nuutila; Mr Hamedan Saad Gisher; Mrs Rosette Ouzounian; Ms Joy Minto; Mr Mohammad Waheed and Mrs Shaheen Parveen Waheed; Mr Jerayr Azirian of ‘Azir’s Delicatessen’ in Manchester; Mr Fadly Glada Shenouda.

Note: All recipes serve 6 people unless otherwise stated. Quantities of salt specified here are those required in authentic recipes and can be adjusted according to personal taste.

Published in 2011 by

Grub Street, 4 Rainham Close, London SW11 6SS

Email: [email protected]

www.grubstreet.co.uk

Text copyright © Arto der Haroutunian 1985, 2011

Copyright this edition © Grub Street 2011

Formatting by Eclipse. [email protected]

Jacket design by Lizzie Ballantyne

ISBN 978-1-908117-01-4

A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the British Library

First published by Ebury Press in 1985 as Classic Vegetable Cookery

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the Publisher.

Printed and bound in Great Britain by MPG Books Ltd, Bodmin, Cornwall. This book is printed on FSC (Forest Stewardship Council) paper

Contents

introduction

soups

appetisers and dips

salads

cooked vegetables

stuffed vegetables

casseroles and stews

pies, savouries and accompaniments

nut and pulse-based dishes

dressings, sauces and stocks

pickles, chutneys and sambals

glossary

bibliography

index

Introduction

‘The person who constantly eats vegetables can do everything’

Chinese proverb

With hindsight I now realise how fortunate I was to have spent my childhood and early teens in that part of the world we call ‘the Fertile Crescent’ or the Middle East. Fortunate, not so much for the educational and material advantages, but for the simple, peaceful (then), almost biblical way of life. I was brought up in two major towns — Aleppo and Beirut, where the pace of life was as calm and assured as that of a camel. Indeed, both towns belonged to the camel, the sheep, the goat — not forgetting the mule and the ox. Throughout there existed a natural harmony which, alas, was abruptly shattered when I set foot in Britain one rainy, foggy August day. That was well over 30 years ago and by now I have become acclimatised to all the vagaries of Nature except one — the limitations of her fruit and vegetable products. I admit I was spoilt.

Our house in Beirut was an island surrounded by apple, orange, cherry, chestnut, tangerine, palm and banana trees. We hardly ever bought any oranges, but simply picked them from the trees. Occasionally we bought a 22 kg (50 lb) sack of the famed ‘Antilias’ oranges (better known in Britain as Jaffas) from neighbouring orchards for a few pence. My family went through at least two such sacks a week and no-one blinked an eye. Imagine my consternation when, upon our arrival at our new home in Manchester, we (my younger brother and I) found no sackful of oranges in the kitchen. There was nothing but potatoes, onions, cabbages and leeks. These were not unknown to me, but who in their right mind could go on eating potatoes day after day when such vegetables as aubergines, okra, courgettes, kohlrabi, spinach and peppers were the everyday vegetables of his ‘old’ country?

Since food plays a major role in the life of a Middle Easterner, my life suddenly became dull and unappetising.

My mother, excellent cook that she was, tried to enliven our beleaguered diet with all kinds of innovations and substitutions. Relations and family friends from Paris, Aleppo, Beirut and Cyprus would send us Christmas packages filled with dried fruits, vegetables such as green peppers, courgettes and okra, apricot paste (amardin), goat’s cheese, sumac powder, herbs and spices to alleviate the siege mentality that had enveloped our very souls.

I recall (much to my chagrin and amusement) how, during those early years, I went to sleep in tears, longing for the fresh mulberries and blood-red pomegranates of our Beirut garden. With hindsight, I now realise how fortunate I was to have spent the formative years of my life in the part of the world that was the orchard of our Western civilisation. For, from a very early age, I ate, enjoyed and appreciated many of Nature’s wonderful products unconsciously.

Today in Britain, however, all the variety of Nature is ours for the buying. At the local Indian grocery a box full of sweet potatoes from the West Indies is flanked by chayotes and pawpaws from Brazil; silky smooth aubergines from Kenya or Spain or Israel are shelved next to twisted karelas (bitter gourds) and there are other gourds of different shapes and sizes, some weighing up to 22 kg (50 lb). There are boxes of pickling cucumbers from Holland, tindoras (tiny cucumber-shaped vegetables not much larger than radishes) from Bangladesh, Far Eastern white radishes, courgettes from Italy, yams from Africa and kohlrabi, beets and spinach from Greece. Then there are the chillies — small, bitter, hot, pungent, large, green or red from all parts of the globe; and those delicious fruits: guavas, mangoes, pineapples, grapes, fresh dates, watermelons — the list could go on and on — which have made me, belatedly, realise how fortunate I am to be living where I do. Indeed, I can most assuredly affirm that no other part of the world has such a wealth of choice. The reasons are obvious. Our climate, with its shortcomings, has forced us to import extensively, thus the world has become our oyster. The immigrants, too, have brought with them the foods that sustained them at home and these are now becoming commonplace on oursupermarket shelves.

LEARNING ABOUT ‘NEW’ VEGETABLES

‘But what do you do with it?’ My local Indian greengrocer smiles a sad butunderstanding smile and goes on to explain most patiently how to prepare the‘drumstick’ I am pointing at. ‘It’s very tasty,’ he says, his eyes gleaming under the neonlights, and I know I will not be disappointed.

To all my questions he or his assistant, and several times his wife, who comes rushingout from her kitchen, give precise details of the many ways they have been cookingthis or that ‘unknown’ vegetable for centuries in their part of the world.

I understand that longing in their eyes or on the edges of their lips as they expoundthe diverse qualities of the vegetable under discussion; a few years ago I, too, wouldlovingly describe to my classmates, as we played in the school yard, what a palm tree,a banana or a watermelon looked and tasted like and would feel a pang of longing forthe sun-drenched orchards of my childhood.

This book is about vegetables: the known, the little known and the few still unknownto the British. This is also a vegetarian book. In essence it is an excuse on my part toexalt the many qualities in vegetables. It is vegetarian because vegetables are at theirbest when treated as they are without the addition of meat, fish or poultry.

The recipes in this collection hail from every corner of the world and are ‘classics’ intheir own right. Some will undoubtedly be known to you, others are still confined totheir native regions. I have not adapted any recipe to rechristen it as ‘vegetarian’.Hence several well-loved dishes have consciously been omitted — because they mayhave included rice or other grains, or pastas, or rashers of bacon. What is left is a rich,wholesome repertoire of fascinating recipes reflecting man’s tireless drive to createfood that flatters his palate, fills his stomach and satisfies his bodily needs.

THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGION ON FOOD

In this overtly secular society of ours we appear to have forgotten how much our spiritual and religious beliefs have influenced not only our moral and cultural attitudes, but also the development of our food.

The numerous olive oil-based dishes of Greece, Turkey and the rest of the Middle East (particularly the Coptic and Ethiopian Orthodox Churches) were first and foremost developed to satisfy a religious dogma which affirmed that a good Christian must fast for 40 days during Lent when no meat, poultry, fish or any other animal products shall enter his body.

In Southeast Asia and the Far East vegetarian diets have been used for centuries by those whose philosophy and religion (Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism, Zen-Buddhism and their offshoots) sanction the right of animals to live, seeing their killing as sinful unless the animal is harmful to humans. Indeed the first (some say the best) vegetable dishes of India, China and Japan are still found in Buddhist monasteries.

Today, in the West, it is not so much religion but rather a wish to nurture their health which has prompted a great many people to eat more and more vegetables. There is a very definite trend towards eating less meat and other fatty foods. People are reducing their meat consumption in a simple but valid pursuit of better health and a more equitable ecological balance. Doctors have carried out numerous studies on this subject and have arrived at a simple conclusion — vegetarians in general appear to be healthier than non-vegetarians; their bodies are leaner, their blood pressure and serum cholesterol levels lower.

Economy, too, plays a major role in this transformation. It is becoming more and more expensive to live on a meat diet. The nutrition supplied by 450 g (1 lb) of meat costs eight to nine times the nutritive value in plant foods the animals need to be fed on, and with a world fast approaching the 7,000,000,000th human inhabitant it is able to support only a small minority with the privilege of eating meat as their staple food.

DIET FOR THE FUTURE

I believe we have no choice but to eat more vegetables in the future. I do not think we will all become vegetarians but I am sure we will consume more vegetables, fruits and nuts, many of which are still unknown to us and as yet unavailable in our corner shops.

What is already there, however, is a magnificent array of all the goodness of Nature brought ‘at great expense and with a great deal of trouble’ from all corners of the world for us to indulge in, in the pursuit of our earthly pleasures.

soups

‘A big man can carrye a heavy load, a good soup can carrye a dinner.’

English saying

Soup, from the French soupe, meaning a broth or a bouillon made with variousvegetables and/or meat and often incorporating pulses, grains and fruits, is today subdivided into two main categories — clear soup and thick soup. Clear soup is a consommé with diverse garnishes, while a thick soup is either puréed or thickened with cream, yogurt, roux or some other liaising element such as rice, bread or eggs.

For thousands of years soup was, and in certain societies still is, the basic food ofthe people. The North African harirasoups or the Caucasian abouror chorbas,ranging from very light yogurt or fruit-based soups to the many substantial oneswhich are eaten as entire meals, are very typical of those of Central Europe, Africaand the American continents.

Man’s first breakthrough in evolving a culinary tradition may have commenced withthe technology of grilling the flesh of animals he so ruthlessly hunted, but the artof cooking was undoubtedly born when he threw chunks of meat, vegetables andherbs into a large container, covered them with water and created the first broth orstew.

Few people in Britain and North America make their own soup any more,preferring the ‘57’ and more varieties commercially available; the more’s the pity,for a ‘good cook is soon perceived by her ability in preparing broth’. In Europe andthe rest of the world soups are still prepared at home and still form part of thebasic diet.

There is nothing as nourishing and appetising as a large bowl of home-made soup,whether served at the start of a meal, as is the custom in Europe, throughout thecourse of a meal, as in China, or often at the end of the meal, as in certain MiddleEastern lands.

A basic component of soups is the stock, which is usually prepared with a meat(often bones), chicken or fish base. Obviously for vegetarians — in the strictestsense of the word — the most difficult thing is to arrive at an acceptable stock. Toachieve this one must cook the vegetables slowly in order to extract all the mineralsalts. If you then wish to thicken the soup use a roux, which is a mixture of butterand flour cooked together (see Glossary).

For a vegetable stock use the recipe in the Glossary. With certain soups I havesuggested using water, with others ingredients such as yogurt, milk, cream,coconut milk or miso — the choice is yours.

FLAVOUR, TEXTURE AND COLOUR

There are three important points to consider when making a soup — flavour,texture and colour.

Flavour is usually subdivided into two categories — ‘warm’ or ‘cool’. The firstapplies to soups where spices are generously used. The second to those thatinclude fruit juices, yogurt or cream and fresh herbs.

Texture has come to play a more important role than in the past as thick, richsoups, such as those from Africa, the Middle East and Central Europe, have givenway to the French-inspired consommés.

Colour of course is of supreme importance. The elegant light green of a watercresssoup patterned with a few streaks of milk-white yogurt, or the rich, ruby red of aUkrainian borsch, the green of a thick pea soup or the light blue-green of anavocado soup sprinkled with paprika or cumin will enhance the dining table andmake the contents of the tureen more appetising.

asparagus soup

Asparagus was loved by the ancient Egyptians and the Romans, and was highly prized by the khalifs of Baghdad of the ‘1001 Nights’ fame. It makes an excellent soup and there are several variations. The recipe below is an Anglo-French standard.

450 g (1 lb) fresh asparagus

600 ml (1 pint) water

50 g (2 oz) butter

50 g (2 oz) flour

600 ml (1 pint) milk

5 ml (1 teaspoon) salt

1.25 ml (¼ teaspoon) black pepper

1.25 ml (¼ teaspoon) nutmeg

Garnish

30 ml (2 tablespoons) finely chopped parsley or chervil

1 Wash the asparagus, cut off the tips and reserve. Cut the stalks into 2.5 cm (1 inch) pieces, place in a saucepan, cover with the water and bring to the boil. Lower the heat, cover the pan and simmer for 30 minutes. Remove the stalks with a slotted spoon and discard. Add the reserved tips to the water, cover then simmer for 10 minutes. Strain, reserving both the tips and the cooking water.

2 Melt the butter in a large saucepan, add the flour and cook for 3–4 minutes, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon. Mix the milk and cooking liquid together and make up to 1.1 litres (2 pints) with water if necessary.

Gradually mix this into the roux, stirring constantly to prevent lumps forming. Slowly bring to the boil and simmer for 2–3 minutes, still stirring all the time.

3 Season with the salt, pepper and nutmeg, add the reserved asparagus tips and simmer for a further 2–3 minutes. Serve garnished with the parsley or chervil.

VARIATION: The famed POTAGE CRÈME D’ASPERGES D’ARGENTEUIL makes use of the best-known French asparagus variety — Argenteuil. This soup is related to the one above, but is much thicker and richer, incorporating both cream and béchamel sauce. Use the tips of 450 g (1 lb) white asparagus, blanched. Simmer them in 50 g (2 oz) melted butter, covered, for 10–15 minutes. Add 1.1 litres (2 pints) béchamel sauce (see Glossary) and simmer over a low heat for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking. Either pass the mixture through a sieve, rubbing through as much asparagus as possible, or process in a blender until smooth. Return to the pan and dilute to the thickness you require with milk. Season with 7.5 ml (1½ teaspoons) salt and 2.5 ml (½ teaspoon) black pepper and bring gently back to the boil. Just before serving stir in 450 ml (¾ pint) cream.

Serve garnished with freshly chopped parsley or chervil and with croutons, fried lightly in butter or vegetable oil.

lo sun — chuk matong

asparagus and bamboo shoot soup

A popular soup from the Hopeh and Shantung regions of northeast China. It is typical of the numerous vegetable-based soups that are simple and delicately flavoured.

There are many varieties of bamboo shoots (chuk sun), each with its own characteristic flavour and sweetness. Fresh shoots are lightly sweet in taste with a crunchy texture. Originally a north Chinese vegetable popular in the cuisines of Shanghai, Peking and Nanking, bamboo shoots now appear in Cantonese-owned restaurants — although not, I understand, on Cantonese dining tables. You can buy both canned and dried bamboo shoots from Chinese food shops.

45 ml (3 tablespoons) oil

4–5 spring onions, thinly sliced

450 g (1 lb) asparagus, tough root ends discarded, cut into 2.5 cm (1 inch) pieces

225 g (8 oz) canned bamboo shoots, cut into 1 cm (½ inch) cubes

2.3 litres (4 pints) vegetable stock (see Glossary)

30 ml (2 tablespoons) soy sauce

7.5 ml (1½ teaspoons) salt

2.5 ml (½ teaspoon) black pepper

1.25 ml (¼ teaspoon) ground ginger

30 ml (2 tablespoons) dry sherry

5 ml (1 teaspoon) sesame oil

1 Heat the oil in a large saucepan, add the spring onions and asparagus and sauté for 2–3 minutes. Add the cubed bamboo shoots and cook, stirring frequently, for a further 2 minutes. Stir in the stock, soy sauce, salt, pepper and ginger and bring to the boil. Lower the heat, cover the pan and simmer for 1¼–1½ hours.

2 Remove from the heat, stir in the sherry and sesame oil and serve.

azokod abour

aubergine and chickpea soup

Aubergine, the ‘Queen of vegetables’ as one Persian poet of the twelfth century penned, is the vegetable of Middle Eastern cuisines.

It is particularly at its best in Armenian-Turkish cookery, from where this recipe originates.

Traditionally sour (unripe) grapes were used. If you have a vine in your garden use the unripe grapes, but if not, I suggest an excellent alternative, sumac, which is the berry of a small shrub that grows wild in northern Iran, the Caucasus and Turkey. The berry, reddish in colour, is powdered and then used in soups and stews.

It has a sharp lemony flavour and can be bought in many Greek and Middle Eastern shops.

45 ml (3 tablespoons) oil

2 garlic cloves, crushed

450 g (1 lb) aubergines, cut into 1 cm (½ inch) cubes

50 g (2 oz) chickpeas, soaked overnight in cold water,

drained, cooked in boiling water until tender and drained

50 g (2 oz) whole lentils, washed

1.7 litres (3 pints) water or vegetable stock (see Glossary)

4 large tomatoes, blanched, peeled and chopped

juice of 1 large lemon

10 ml (2 teaspoons) sumac powder or

30 ml (2 more tablespoons) lemon juice

7.5 ml (1½ teaspoons) salt

10 ml (2 teaspoons) dried mint

1 Heat the oil in a large saucepan, add the garlic and fry for 1 minute. Add the aubergine cubes and fry, turning frequently for 2–3 minutes. Add the drained chickpeas and lentils to the pan with the water or stock and bring to the boil. Lower the heat, cover the pan and simmer for 20 minutes.

2 Add the tomatoes, lemon juice and sumac and simmer for a further 45 minutes or until the lentils and chickpeas are really tender. If necessary, add a little more water or stock to maintain about 1.4–1.7 litres (2½–3 pints) of liquid.

3 Stir in the salt and mint, simmer for a few more minutes and serve.

sopa de aguacate

avocado soup

Avocado is a remarkable fruit-vegetable, one of Nature’s many gifts that arrived in the Old World from the New — to be more precise from South America. Avocado was known in Britain as far back as the seventeenth century, but it was only a few decades ago that it appeared on a regular basis in our high street greengrocers. Since then it has become standard fare, not only in restaurants and hotels all over Britain and Europe but, more importantly, in our homes.

Avocados make a fine soup. This one is of South American origin, though I hasten to add that there are many excellent avocado soups in North American and Israeli cuisines — all of recent vintage. Serve it cold.

2 ripe avocados, peeled and stoned

1 garlic clove, crushed

5 ml (1 teaspoon) salt

1.25 ml (¼ teaspoon) black pepper

1.25 ml (¼ teaspoon) allspice

15 ml (1 tablespoon) lemon juice

900 ml (1½ pints) milk

Garnish

2 tablespoons finely chopped mint or chives

1 Chop the avocado flesh and place in a blender with the garlic, salt, pepper, allspice and lemon juice and blend to a thick pulp. If necessary add a little of the milk to help it blend smoothly. Turn into a large bowl and stir in the milk.

2 Chill for at least 1 hour and then serve garnished with the mint or chives.

bean soups

‘Hunger makes raw beans into almonds’

German proverb

A quick glance at your local supermarket shelves will convince you of three facts. First, that we have come a long way from the day when Esau sold his inheritance for a bowl of lentil soup — since there was nothing else available — second, that many beans from the Leguminosae family crossed the Atlantic after the conquest of the New World and, third, that there are now so many beans available, both fresh and dried, that one is momentarily at a loss to know what to do with them.

The solution is simple. Study the cuisines of the Mediterranean coastline (north and south), the Middle East and the Indian subcontinent. They have, more than any others, mastered the art of bean cookery.

Your supermarket shelves are filled to the brim with broad beans, butter beans, haricot beans, flageolet beans, runner beans, french beans, black beans, black-eyed beans,