This may sound like a post by Yasmin of Noomee Hilo, but it really isn't. She has deservedly stolen the limelight of nostalgic blogging but no-one can deny that we all suffer from equally painful moments of nostalgia and of longing for home.
During a conversation with a friend of mine, a very special word was mentioned; one that triggered a series of mental images.. a surge of emotional flashbacks that compelled me to write this post.. Timmen Ahmar
My late mother was an exceptionally talented cook - whatever she cooked, we loved: Boorani, cooked tomatoes and aubergines; Makhlama, fried eggs with minced meat and tomatoes; Chilifry which I'm ashamed to have forgotten. All these were meals that some may consider basic and less than nutritious - we regarded them as delicacies because she made them with passion, with devotion, and she served them with a glowing smile on her face that never failed to make us eat the food whole-heartedly and with great joy.
My personal favourite was Timmen Ahmar; rice cooked with tomatoes and sometimes served with chicken. The tomatoes added a reddish colour to the white rice, hence the name 'Ahmar' (red). Some of my brothers liked it when the rice was all mushy (m3ajjin). Yoghurt (Roba) was also added on the side but I didn't usually do that because it turned the rice into what we called 'shoorbat timmen', rice soup.
I remember sitting before the Sufra, a large, rectangular plastic table-cloth that we used on the floor. My plate was full and I was waiting for the rest of my brothers to sit down so that we start eating. As they came, one by one, we began eating the tasty Timmen Ahmar. I swallowed the food hurriedly, as if in fear of it running out. I gulped and gulped until I got hiccups, or Um il Awafi, as my mother had taught me.
A distinctive feature of my mother's Timmen Ahmar was the way she served it. Usually, rice is presented in a Belem, a large plate or bowl. However, Timmen Ahmar was put in a Seeniyya, a big, silver metal tray; and then each of us would take the amount we thought sufficient for us.
We ate as one..we lived as one.
The Timmen Ahmar days are long gone; 1997 wasn't just a decade ago, it was a lifetime ago; One of my brothers tried consoling me by cooking Timmen Ahmar and making sure that it was served in a metal tray rather than a large, 'farfouri' plate - he didn't quite make it. I thanked him warmly and reminded him that Mama's status as a historical one-off goes beyond her altruism, manners and humility; even her recipes had a touch of magic to them.. he was convinced.
Over the past few days, I have ate the same amount of food that an average 18 year old would eat over a month. Hamoori Fish; Freek Soup and an alarming amount of Kofta and KFC meals. However, when Timmen Ahmar was mentioned a couple of hours ago, I was taken back in time to when I was 8 years old, sitting in front of the television on a Friday afternoon, watching Fulla (Snow White) and anticipating the food that was to be served in a bit.
To my disappointment, that particular day, we had Tehcheen.. Not that I'm complaining, it was divine!
During a conversation with a friend of mine, a very special word was mentioned; one that triggered a series of mental images.. a surge of emotional flashbacks that compelled me to write this post.. Timmen Ahmar
My late mother was an exceptionally talented cook - whatever she cooked, we loved: Boorani, cooked tomatoes and aubergines; Makhlama, fried eggs with minced meat and tomatoes; Chilifry which I'm ashamed to have forgotten. All these were meals that some may consider basic and less than nutritious - we regarded them as delicacies because she made them with passion, with devotion, and she served them with a glowing smile on her face that never failed to make us eat the food whole-heartedly and with great joy.
My personal favourite was Timmen Ahmar; rice cooked with tomatoes and sometimes served with chicken. The tomatoes added a reddish colour to the white rice, hence the name 'Ahmar' (red). Some of my brothers liked it when the rice was all mushy (m3ajjin). Yoghurt (Roba) was also added on the side but I didn't usually do that because it turned the rice into what we called 'shoorbat timmen', rice soup.
I remember sitting before the Sufra, a large, rectangular plastic table-cloth that we used on the floor. My plate was full and I was waiting for the rest of my brothers to sit down so that we start eating. As they came, one by one, we began eating the tasty Timmen Ahmar. I swallowed the food hurriedly, as if in fear of it running out. I gulped and gulped until I got hiccups, or Um il Awafi, as my mother had taught me.
A distinctive feature of my mother's Timmen Ahmar was the way she served it. Usually, rice is presented in a Belem, a large plate or bowl. However, Timmen Ahmar was put in a Seeniyya, a big, silver metal tray; and then each of us would take the amount we thought sufficient for us.
We ate as one..we lived as one.
The Timmen Ahmar days are long gone; 1997 wasn't just a decade ago, it was a lifetime ago; One of my brothers tried consoling me by cooking Timmen Ahmar and making sure that it was served in a metal tray rather than a large, 'farfouri' plate - he didn't quite make it. I thanked him warmly and reminded him that Mama's status as a historical one-off goes beyond her altruism, manners and humility; even her recipes had a touch of magic to them.. he was convinced.
Over the past few days, I have ate the same amount of food that an average 18 year old would eat over a month. Hamoori Fish; Freek Soup and an alarming amount of Kofta and KFC meals. However, when Timmen Ahmar was mentioned a couple of hours ago, I was taken back in time to when I was 8 years old, sitting in front of the television on a Friday afternoon, watching Fulla (Snow White) and anticipating the food that was to be served in a bit.
To my disappointment, that particular day, we had Tehcheen.. Not that I'm complaining, it was divine!
