Besides being delicious, cooking a variety of cuisines is educational — you learn the quirks of the cuisine itself, and tricks and techniques from one cuisine can enhance the understanding of others. Take the fritter: practically every culture has its little fried ball of something, its croquette, pakora, hush puppy, etc. The methods for producing each are unique to the cultures — and individual cooks — that produce them. But cultures tend to be chauvinistic, assuming their way is the only way to fry. It’s a shame, because you can learn a lot about beignets from frying buñuelos.

Take two cultures not exactly known for their capacity to cooperate: Israel and Egypt. Israelis might fry up a mean latke — maybe one made of turnips, even — for the eight nights of Hanukkah, but believe that an Egyptian — especially if he happens to be a nationalist or an Islamist — would not be caught frying up those quintessentially Jewish treats that time of year. Instead, he’d probably head to the shop around the corner for some ta’amiya (think of falafel, but Egyptian), fried spheres of fava beans with herbs and spices, sandwiched in country bread with salad and tahini sauce.

I’ve always been disappointed with my homemade ta’amiya;  among other problems I can’t get the binder right. Bringing the frying oil to a high enough temperature helps (if it’s too low the fritters will disintegrate), but there needs to be something more. I’ve tried eggs, but it makes the ta’amiya too heavy. But my recent experience with turnip latkes got me thinking: they are bound with egg, true, but the egg is beaten with flour to form a batter that binds the shredded vegetables together. A batter would be perfect for holding ta’amiya together: a loose slurry of water and chickpea flour helped bind the ground favas and also made for a crisper crust. My best homemade ta’amiya yet, and I never would have arrived here if not for experimenting with other fritters.

Just to mix things up a bit more, we ate the patties topped with tzatziki sauce. Greeks, Israelis and Arabs, all working together toward a common goal — the ultimate fritter? Now there’s a vision for peace in the world.

Ta’amiya of Justice and Understanding

• 1# dried favas, soaked overnight and shelled to 2# 1¼oz
• .445 oz dill (~½ cup)
• .480 oz mint (~½ cup)
• 2.5 oz chickpea (gram) flour
• ¼ tsp baking soda
• 8 oz water
• 5 scallions (1.6 oz), thinly sliced on a bias
• 6 small carrots (4 oz), julienned fine (use a mandoline)
• 6 cloves garlic (1.155 oz), minced or crushed in a garlic press
• 1.5 tsp cumin (.1 oz)
• ¾ tsp coriander (.05 oz)
• 1/8 tsp cayenne (.01 oz)
• ¼ tsp black pepper (.025 oz)
• 1 Tbsp salt (.7 oz)
• Oil for frying

Working in small batches, process the  fava beans and the herbs together to a paste (I did three batches in my 6 cup food processor). In a large bowl, whisk together chickpea flour, baking soda and water. Mix in scallions, carrots, garlic, spices and salt. Knead in the fava bean mixture until well-distributed and homogenous.

Heat oil to 375ºF. Pinch off golf-ball sized clumps of the fava bean mixture, quickly roll the mixture into a sphere (technically they should be oblate, but I thought the spheres were attractive), and place it carefully in the oil. Repeat until the pot is full but not crowded. Fry until patties are a deep brown (the oil will have recovered to 375ºF at this point) then drain on paper towels and sprinkle with salt. Continue frying in batches until the fava bean mixture is gone, periodically sampling the ta’amiya right out of the fryer to make sure they’re still good.

Serve with pita bread, greens, tomatoes if they are in seasons and tzatziki, tahini sauce, hummus, or any other sauce you feel culturally appropriate.

When a new vegetable first comes in to season, all I want to do with it is prepare it as simply as possible. A little fat, a little seasoning, and let the vegetable speak for itself. The year’s first asparagus? Lightly steam it and toss it with butter and salt. Sweet corn? Shuck, boil and enjoy slathered in butter and plenty of salt and pepper. Tomatoes? They require little more than slicing, a drizzle of olive oil and grains of sea salt.

But there comes a point, especially as a season seems to drag on, when simple preparations start to get a little tiresome, and I start trying to think of new ways to use up the half-dozen ears of corn I feel compelled to buy every week while the season lasts.

Squash, now firmly in season, is a vegetable that easily fits this pattern. I love roasted squash mashed with butter and salt as much as the next guy, but it doesn’t take very long before I start to find the squash’s sweetness and its squishiness daunting. I enjoy the occasional squash soup, but once a year is really enough. So with an eye to heading off squash fatigue, I offer an interesting, if a little labor-intensive way to use up those fall squash: bisteeya.

Bisteeya is a Moroccan sweet/savory pie filled with shredded meat and nuts. In her book Spice: Flavors of the Eastern Mediterranean, Ana Sortun offers a vegetarian version using sweet potatoes. I adapted her version to use the red Kuri squash I bought at the farmers’ market in place of the potatoes. The North African flavors in this dish are a nice accent to the squash and a welcome relief from more straightforward presentations.

Squash Bisteeya

• 1 Kuri squash, about 1.5#
• 2 Tablespoons butter
• 1 Large onion, minced
• 1/8 Teaspoon turmeric
• Pinch saffron threads, crumbled
• 1 Teaspoon grated ginger
• Salt
• ¾ Teaspoon black pepper
• 4 Eggs, beaten
• 2 Tablespoons lemon juice
• ¼ Cup parsley, chopped
• ¼ Cup cilantro, chopped
• ¾ Walnuts (Sortun uses pine nuts, but I substituted walnuts—what we had on hand)
• ¼ Cup powdered sugar
• 2 Teaspoons ground cinnamon
• ½ Cup extra virgin olive oil
• 9 Sheets phyllo dough

Preheat oven to 350°F. Cut squash in half and scoop out seeds. Coat inside of squash with a light film of oil and roast until fork-tender, 45 minutes to an hour. Remove squash from oven and allow to cool.

While squash is roasting, melt and slightly brown the butter. Add the onion, turmeric and saffron. Lower the heat to medium-low and cook until onions are softened but not at all brown. Stir in ginger and set aside.

When squash is cool enough to handle, scoop the flesh out of the skin and into the bowl of a food processor. Purée the squash until creamy, adding ½ to ¾ cup of water as necessary to keep everything moving in the food processor. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Add eggs, lemon juice, parsley and cilantro and blend until smooth. Transfer to a mixing bowl and stir in onion mixture. Add a little more salt.

Toast the walnuts in a skillet or in the oven until darkened and fragrant. Allow to cool then coarsely chop. Mix with sugar and cinnamon (when I made this I actually forgot the cinnamon and sugar. It was still good, but I have made it in the past with cinnamon and sugar and would recommend remembering them.)

Brush the bottom of a 9″ cake pan with olive oil. Place one sheet of phyllo dough on the counter and brush with olive oil. Sprinkle with 1 Tablespoon of the nuts. Top with another sheet of phyllo dough and repeat. Add a third sheet, brushing it with oil.

Carefully lay this assembly of three sheets of dough in the cake pan. The edges of the dough should overlap the sides of the pan. Assemble another set of phyllo sheets in same manner and lay it in the cake pan on top of the first set, but perpendicular. Press the dough to the sides of the pan and fill with squash mixture. Make a third set of three sheets of dough and lay it over the top of the squash mixture, then fold over the edges of the bottom sheets of dough so the entire pie is covered.

Bake for 40 to 45 minutes until puffy and golden brown.

Cut pie into wedges and dust with powdered sugar. Serve with a light salad. Part of the pleasure of this dish is the crispy phyllo crust — which your refrigerator will do nothing for — so it’s best to eat this all immediately.

I just LOVE Valentine’s day! What better time to show your sweetie how much you care about them! I spent most of the day decorating the apartment with pink and red crepe paper and singing along to my favorite love songs, but I also took time to make dinner. Earlier in the week I planned to use some small heart-shaped cake pans that we never use to make cupcakes, but as usually happens with my plans to make sweets when the time came around I just didn’t have the heart. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t use the pans:

Butternut squash kibbeh, from Ana Sortun’s Spice: Flavors of the Eastern Mediterranean, is highly moldable for all your holiday novelty-dish needs. It’s also a great way to use butternut squash in the winter that is (Minneapolis restauranteurs take note) NOT butternut squash ravioli/pasta. For those not familiar, kibbeh is a Levantine/Middle Eastern dish of bulghur wheat mixed with meat (usually lamb) that is eaten raw, baked, or fried. I think it is best fried, but I have never eaten it raw. For this version, butternut squash takes the place of lamb as the principle binder of the bulghur. And while you can’t see it in the picture, this heart is stuffed with spiced feta. I am not a big fan of butternut squash because I think it is too sweet and too smooth-textured, but here the cracked wheat helps with both of those issues by giving the mixture a more grainy texture and diluting the sweetness of the squash.

Here’s the recipe:

Stuffed Butternut Squash Kibbeh

Kibbeh:

• 3# Squash
• 4 T beurre noisette
• 1 onion
• 1 green bell pepper
• 1/4 c olive oil
• 2 t paprika
• 1 t Middle Eastern five spice
• 1 1/2 c bulghur or cracked wheat

Filling:

• 1/2# Feta
• 1/2 t Middle Eastern five spice
• 1/2 t sumac (or more – the more sumac the better!)
• 1/2 t Aleppo pepper
• 2 T chopped parsley

Roast the squash until it’s soft, then puree it in the food processor until it is smooth and creamy. Season liberally with salt and pepper. Cook the onion and pepper in olive oil until softened and starting to brown, then stir in the paprika and five spice. Cook for a minute. Add the squash puree and warm through. Stir in the bulghur, cover, and turn off the heat. Let sit 15 minutes while the bulghur softens up.

For the filling, mix the (crumbled) feta with all the other ingredients.

To assemble, pack the kibbeh mixture into your desired vessel (for example, a heart-shaped cake pan). Hollow out an indentation and fill it with the feta mixture, then cover with more kibbeh as needed. Bake in 375° oven for 15 minutes. Turn kibbeh out on to a plate (I hope you remembered to grease those vessels, because I sure didn’t remind you!). Garnish with a bit of the feta mixture and maybe some chopped parsley.

We had this with muhammara (it’s red like hearts GET IT?) and pita. Not bad for a Valentine’s day.

Emmer is an ancient strain of wheat with only 28 chromosomes.  It was one of the first wheats cultivated by man. Nowadays, you can find it online from Bluebird Grain Farms. It makes a great substitute for bulghur wheat in a tabouli-like salad. The whole wheat berries are very toothsome, almost like very small beans.

Dressing:

• Juice of one or two lemons
• Olive Oil
• Salt and Pepper to taste
• Sumac!

Whisk this all together. It has to sit and soak a while for the sumac to open up. A crushed clove of garlic would also be good but I had enough garlic going on in this meal so I left it out. 

Salad:

• 1 1/2 cups whole emmer berries
• Half a cucumber, quartered, seeded and sliced thin
• A bunch of parsley, chopped
• A bland hot house tomato, regretfully purchased and loathingly chopped
• Half a bunch of scallions, chopped

Put the emmer in a small saucepan with 4 odd cups of water and bring to a boil. Let it boil violently for five minutes and then reduce the heat so it simmers gently for about an hour. After this time the emmer will become toothsome but not mushy (if it’s getting mushy and exploding, for the love of god turn off the heat) and most of the water will be absorbed or evaporated. Drain whatever water is left and then toss the emmer with the dressing. Leave this to marinate for as long as you want. Before serving, toss in the rest of the ingredients.

I served this with fresh pita, hummus, and awesome lamb sausages from The Wedge.