a prayer
…Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses
As we forgive those who trespass against us…
There are some who will have strong feelings about today.
I have taken my lesson from The Complete Middle Eastern Cookbook. This is described as Lahuh, a Yemeni bread made from nothing more than wholemeal wheat flour, salt and water. My informant notes it is favoured during Ramadan and other Muslim feasts. She describes how the batter is allowed to ferment, like sourdough. Unlike the Yemeni sponge bread, this version is cooked on both sides. There's a sourdough culture of extended lineage in our family — though it is reasoned like our own microbiomes they evolve and change to resemble their environment. When I mixed my batter, I inoculated it with this culture.
Variations on the name Lahuh and batter breads like this feature in the cuisines of NE Africa and the Arabian Peninsula — I'm sure you're familiar with injera. But the references published on the internet seem to predominantly come from one place which has appropriated this bread as their own, as they have Shakshouka and Hummus bi tahini.
Of course, you already know the Middle East is complicated and ownership of many things is claimed and contested.
Today, like all days, we should break bread together. The cruel denial of access to food — to bread, the staff of life — in acts of conflict is inhumane and cannot be justified, whatever the grievance. This bread was good, was good to share. My counsel to anyone prepared to appropriate, as your own, the food of others is to at least have the human decency to sit down with them and share your spoils. Unless, of course, your eternal objective is to perpetuate grievance.
a prayer
…Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses
As we forgive those who trespass against us…
There are some who will have strong feelings about today.
I have taken my lesson from The Complete Middle Eastern Cookbook. This is described as Lahuh, a Yemeni bread made from nothing more than wholemeal wheat flour, salt and water. My informant notes it is favoured during Ramadan and other Muslim feasts. She describes how the batter is allowed to ferment, like sourdough. Unlike the Yemeni sponge bread, this version is cooked on both sides. There's a sourdough culture of extended lineage in our family — though it is reasoned like our own microbiomes they evolve and change to resemble their environment. When I mixed my batter, I inoculated it with this culture.
Variations on the name Lahuh and batter breads like this feature in the cuisines of NE Africa and the Arabian Peninsula — I'm sure you're familiar with injera. But the references published on the internet seem to predominantly come from one place which has appropriated this bread as their own, as they have Shakshouka and Hummus bi tahini.
Of course, you already know the Middle East is complicated and ownership of many things is claimed and contested.
Today, like all days, we should break bread together. The cruel denial of access to food — to bread, the staff of life — in acts of conflict is inhumane and cannot be justified, whatever the grievance. This bread was good, was good to share. My counsel to anyone prepared to appropriate, as your own, the food of others is to at least have the human decency to sit down with them and share your spoils. Unless, of course, your eternal objective is to perpetuate grievance.