Food of Life food: kuku, and chicken with rice and apricots

Circling back to my previous post about the marvelous coincidence in being given two versions of the same cookbook, Food of Life, I wanted to share some photos of the vibrant, flavorful kuku and my second attempted dish, chicken with rice and apricots. 

Both are really delicious, and I'd say my first efforts were resounding successes except that the kuku fell apart (it's supposed to hold firm so that you can slice it, rather like a frittata) and I could not dislodge 75% of the prized, golden shell layer of the rice dish (the tah-dig, a crust that forms as the rice sort of caramelizes in the pot).

So be it. We still enjoyed these meals and in fact have enjoyed them for days as Food of Life's "serves 6" appears to actually mean "serves 6 with ample leftovers." This is all good because we are a leftovers-loving family.

While the colors of the kuku are magnificent, and the zucchini and parsley tasted as bright as they look, you can see that what was supposed to be a slice is little more than a spooned slop atop some crisped pita.

Whatever. It's like when I'm teaching a canning class and we're making anything with strawberries, I always say "Listen, if your jam doesn't set perfectly, just call it sauce and move on. Who's going to be like, 'Strawberry sauce? No good!' Exactly. No one."

So anyway, back to the food. I really liked the kuku and would definitely make it again. It was fresh, light and yet hearty, and healthy.

Two nights later, I ventured into a more time-intensive recipe, the chicken with rice and apricots. I do not mind putting in effort, but I'll tell y'all that this dish takes a long time. Like three hours long. Let's all give it up for Persian mamas and all other cooks who daily craft such layered meals. Mahgah.

First you prepare the chicken by cubing it and cooking it -for nearly an hour!- with onions and turmeric and other lovely things. Meanwhile, you will optimally soak the rice for two hours and also prepare the onion, apricot, date and golden raisin part of the dish. 

The spices are divine: cinnamon, nutmeg, coriander, cumin, saffron, rose water, advieh (a Persian blend of many of the spices I just mentioned plus dried and ground rose petals), and turmeric.  

I would like to take this moment to give a shout-out to turmeric. It makes everything such a smashing shade of orange-yellow and its purported health benefits, including being an effective anti-inflammatory and powerful antioxidant, are fantastic. 

Not only do both dishes make excellent leftovers, the chicken and rice dish actually improves after a day or two! And, I got to use up the bottle of rose water I've had on hand for a while now. 

Extremely cool coincidence via gifted cookbooks

Last week, a new friend of mine, J, brought me a gorgeous bag of birthday goodies. Seriously, gorgeous, and also really thoughtful. Included was a cookbook she'd long loved and cooked from but didn't use enough anymore; instead of holding on to it, she wanted to pass it to me.

Written by Najmieh Batmanglij, it's a Persian cookbook called Food of Life, and this gifted copy is the original from 1986. As I thumbed through it, some of the pages splattered and all of them soft from use, an old recipe fell out. Jotted on a scratch piece of legal pad paper now stiff with age (a funny juxtaposition to those supple cookbook pages), it's for paella (not Persian) and is roughly sketched; arrows, underlines, circled words all remind J what she would and wouldn't want to include and do.

I was, and still am, incredibly touched by such a generous, personal gift. I asked J if she wanted the paella recipe back but she said "No, keep it with the book." Old recipes, hand-written, are treasures, and I plan to carefully tape the yellow paper into the front cover of Food of Life. They've been paired for a while now, and I see no reason to separate them.

Fast forward a few days, and another dear friend, M (who is Iranian), brings me a heavy, wrapped gift. "There's something small tucked inside*," she said, as I proceeded to tell her about the "amazing Persian cookbook" J had given me and how I intended to use the book and the barberries M gave me few months back to finally make Zereshk Polo, or jeweled rice, a favorite dish of mine.

M laughed and said, "Well now you have two amazing Persian cookbooks and can definitely make the rice."

Later, I opened her present and found it to be the 25th anniversary copy of, wait for it, Food of Life. Now subtitled Ancient Persian and Modern Iranian Cooking and Ceremonies, this updated version is heftier and contains more photographs. It also includes updated language and recipes which I find fascinating. 

For example, what was in 1986 called Eggplant Kookoo is now, in 2016, written as Eggplant Kuku. The new recipe includes fewer eggs, less garlic, more and different spices, and a yogurt garnish. Where the generic eggplant was originally called for, Batmanglij now suggests using Chinese or Italian eggplant.

Brain Kookoo has been omitted completely, and an option for Zucchini Kuku has been added. I'll be making the latter for dinner tonight. 

Food is such a fascinating lens through which to observe societies, regions, evolving tastes and culinary trends. An individual's recipes, especially those from a person considered an expert on a given cuisine, are a hyper-personal way of studying the same things.

I think of the way I was taught to make gumbo and cranberry sauce, for example, and how I've morphed those teachings into my own ways of crafting those dishes. I don't make my mom's or grandmother's recipes exactly, but the tastes are resonant and the inspiration clear. 

Having these two versions of Food of Life, and having received them at the same time, is like a crash course in one woman's cooking life: eggplant kookoo as a young woman, eggplant kuku twenty-five years later with decades of experience and changing ingredients and a shifting palate influencing the outcome.

I'm thrilled to have these books and will share with you each time I cook from them, adding wear and splats and notes of my own to the pages as I go.

*That little something tucked inside? A packet of saffron! WOW!