« Hacktacular---Count Von Hackula Returns From the Grave! | Main | It's Funny Because It's Totally Made Up »

September 05, 2004

Ghormeh Sabzi

she.jpgI have been feeling too depressed about the horrible tragedy in Beslan to write things. I don't want our blog to dry up and blow away, though, so I will give you a recipe. This is nominally a Persian recipe, but I got it from the old NYT cookbook, so we'll just have to defer to ogged on whether it's very authentic. I bet it's actually supposed to have preserved lemons. I recommend washing it down with a combination of red wine and abject gratitude that your children are safe. Yes. When you wake up in the night and panic you can go look at them, to make sure their narrow chests are rising and falling in the dim room. You can smell their heads. Still alive. When Violet was just newborn she smelled a little like lamb, which made me somewhat disinclined to eat it. Now she just smells like milk and clean things. She's sleeping on the sofa next to me right now. Zoë is sleeping on a sheepskin on the living room floor. Safe. No one can get them, because the doors are locked and I'm watching them breathe.


Ghormeh Sabzi

olive oil
salt and pepper
2 lb lamb, in cubes
1 onion, chopped
5 cloves garlic, minced
3 bunches italian (flat-leaf) parsley, chopped
1 bunch chives, chopped, or spring onions
1 qt chicken broth (or lamb broth, if you've really got it all together)
juice of 2 lemons
2 cans kidney beans, drained and rinsed in cold water (or cook half a package of kidney beans in water till tender)

1. Dry the lamb cubes on paper towels. Sear them in batches on all sides in hot olive oil in a cast-iron dutch oven or other heavy pan. Don't crowd the pan or they won't brown.

2. Set the browned lamb aside. Cook the onion in the pan, scraping up the browned bits. When it is golden, add the garlic, parsely, and chives or green onions and stir till the parsley melts down. Return lamb cubes and juices to the pot, add lemon juice and broth to cover. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cook 1 to 1 1/2 hours, until lamb is very tender.

3. Add the drained kidney beans and cook 15 minutes more.

This is very tasty with flatbreads, baba ganouj, yogurt mixed with garlic and cucumber, and salads and whatnot. Olives. My mom and I never got to eat this as much as we wanted, because my stepdad and (I think) my brother didn't like it. Luckily for me, John likes it, so I can eat it whenever I want.

TrackBack

TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.typepad.com/t/trackback/563/1090773

Listed below are links to weblogs that reference Ghormeh Sabzi:

» Been A While from Saheli*: Musings and Observations
Even though I'd rather wish she hadn't taken up lamb again, I was moved by Belle Warring's cooking blogpost reaction: You can smell their heads. Still alive. [Read More]

Comments

That was beautiful. It made me cry. I know exactly what you mean. I couldn't bear to look at the front page of the newspaper - it just broke my heart. Just allow them to sleep and let the sweet exhalations cool the tears on your cheeks.

Anne Lamott says a good writer is one who can make you shake your head at the exactness of their prose, and say, yes, yes, that's exactly how I feel, too.

Thanks, Belle.

And the recipe is delicious too.

Thank you, Belle.

Hey, good stuff. You're right about the lemons. The best standard recipe (from the best Iranian cookbook) is here. (And my mom makes it with beef.)

And, of course, it's almost always served with Iranian-style rice, which, go figure, is one of the hardest Iranian dishes to make properly.

Trying to figure out what to say tomorrow, if anything, about Russia. Not sure I can say anything.

On the recipes, I like this one a lot. I'm not so keen on the previous one, the medieval sardines one. Not because of sardines, but because...am I the only person who doesn't like fruit stewed or cooked with meat? There's just something not right about that 90% of the time.

Too safe if you ask me. You should wake them up right now, find another adult to stand about eight feet away from you, and play a quick few rounds of "toss the baby." If you're the anxious-mama type, and I know you are, you can do it across a bed.

The tossees squeal with delight plus the short periods of weightlessness stimulate their growth. (Guaranteed! I did this to each of my babies and they've all grown!)

Timothy, a little orange juice and zest in a lamb stew is a mighty good thing.

(Not to mention tomatoes, peppers, lemons, and the whole range of fruits not commonly thought of as "fruit".)

To W. Kiernan:

Wow.

No infant should *ever* be "tossed." You are risking serious spine, neck and brain damage to an infant who is not yet able to contol the heavy weight of his/her own head.

This "game" should not be played until your child is of an age where s/he can indicate that s/he wants you to stop or you risk unintentionally terrifying the child. Even then, the APA (American Pediatrics Association) has come right out and recommended strongly against this "game" as a source of serious injury in the very young.

A social worker I know says she and her colleges think of it as a form of subtle child abuse, where the parent is actually taking out agression on his/her child.

As for the claim that "short periods of weightlessness stimulate their growth," I can only shake my head in bewildered wonder at the baselessness of that claim (if anything, the human body *atrophies* in weightless environments i.e. astronauts) and hope that your entire posting was some sort of joke that simply didn't come across very well.

Wow.

Orange zest, sure. I'm talking prunes, raisins, giant chunks of apple, that kind of thing.

actually, Timothy, I'm not mad keen on fruits and meats either, and in general not crazy about raisins. well, now that I think about it, I guess there are a few good recipes I like with fruit and meats: pork and prunes, that sort of thing. but anyway, what I'm saying is, here in this pasta it really works, even if you think it sounds weeeerd.

Post a comment

If you have a TypeKey or TypePad account, please Sign In

Email John & Belle

  • he.jpgjholbo-at-mac-dot-com
  • she.jpgbbwaring-at-yahoo-dot-com

Google J&B


J&B Archives

J&B Have A Tipjar


  • Search Now:

  • Buy a couple books, we get a couple bucks.
Blog powered by TypePad

J&B Have A Comment Policy

  • This edited version of our comment policy is effective as of May 10, 2006.

    By publishing a comment to this blog you are granting its proprietors, John Holbo and Belle Waring, the right to republish that comment in any way shape or form they see fit.

    Severable from the above, and to the extent permitted by law, you hereby agree to the following as well: by leaving a comment you grant to the proprietors the right to release ALL your comments to this blog under this Creative Commons license (attribution 2.5). This license allows copying, derivative works, and commercial use.

    Severable from the above, and to the extent permitted by law, you are also granting to this blog's proprietors the right to so release any and all comments you may make to any OTHER blog at any time. This is retroactive. By publishing ANY comment to this blog, you thereby grant to the proprietors of this blog the right to release any of your comments (made to any blog, at any time, past, present or future) under the terms of the above CC license.

    Posting a comment constitutes consent to the following choice of law and choice of venue governing any disputes arising under this licensing arrangement: such disputes shall be adjudicated according to Canadian law and in the courts of Singapore.

    If you do NOT agree to these terms, for pete's sake do NOT leave a comment. It's that simple.

  • Confused by our comment policy?

    We're testing a strong CC license as a form of troll repellant. Does that sound strange? Read this thread. (I know, it's long. Keep scrolling. Further. Further. Ah, there.) So basically, we figure trolls will recognize that selling coffee cups and t-shirts is the best revenge, and will keep away. If we're wrong about that, at least someone can still sell the cups and shirts. (Sigh.)