Devilled Eggs! Where on earth?

I can’t remember the first time I consumed a devilled egg. In fact, it has never even occurred to me to query where they came from.

That is, until recently, when one of our Iranian dinner guests – about to pop an entire devilled egg into his mouth – proclaimed gleefully,  “Oh, these are very British, aren’t they?”

At the time, I begged to differ as I have been offered stuffed eggs in Iranian homes on a number of occasions. This little savoury treat, usually filled with a mixture of mustard, mayonnaise, pepper sauce, pepper and salt has long been a favourite in our home. I have been serving them up at dinner parties for many years in different countries.

Devilled Eggs with a Middle Eastern Flavour

But the question did haunt me. I had to ask myself where the devil did they come from?

After some scratching around in the historical henhouse, I discovered that devilled eggs go a very long way back. Baskets of boiled eggs can be seen in hieroglyphic drawings inside ancient Egyptian tombs. The Byzantine physician, Anthimus, wrote in his de observatione ciborum (On the Observance of Food) that boiled eggs are excellent for good health and recommended we eat lots of them.

It was, however, the ancient Romans – seemingly the first people to domesticate birds for their eggs – who concocted the idea of the stuffed egg.  Or at least, they were the first to record it in a recipe. Apicius, a Roman food writer from the late 4^th century A.D. wrote the instructions for stuffed eggs in his book e re coquinaria (On the Subject of Cooking).

Apicius was the master chef of his day and On the Subject of Cooking appears to have been the go-to text in any Roman kitchen worth its salt. Contained in its pages is the trendy dish of boiled eggs, sliced in half and stuffed with a variety of ingredients and covered in a spicy sauce. They were served as appetisers to guests, reclining in togas on couches and drinking jars of wine.

Given that the Romans invited themselves into a large number of countries during their grand imperial tour, it would be safe to surmise that they also brought the stuffed egg with them to their new homes. Although stuffing the eggs with roasted flamingo probably no longer cuts the mustard in a modern kitchen, the devilled egg has remained on the menu ever since.

But where does the “devilled” aspect come from? Well, this is where the British influence does play a part. Apparently, in the 18^th century, English cooks spiced up their meat, particularly offal, by cooking it with cayenne pepper and spices. The association of Hell being a reputedly hot place ignited the notion of spicy food being cooked by the Devil! The concept of adding some satanic spices to other food led us eventually to the devilled egg.

I recently read that devilled eggs were also a Middle Eastern delicacy, served to honoured guests in many locations along the ancient Silk Road. I leave you with an exquisite recipe from this part of the world.

Devilled Eggs with a Middle Eastern Flavour

8 eggs, hard-boiled for about 10 minutes and left to cool

2 to 3 tablespoons of chopped spring onions

4 tablespoons of plain yogurt

3 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons of lemon juice (preferably fresh)

1 heaped teaspoon of Dijon mustard

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

What to do:

Peel the eggs and cut them in half carefully. Scoop out the yolks into a bowl and set the egg whites aside.

Mash the egg yolks well and add all the other ingredients.

Stuff the egg whites with the mixture.

Chill in the fridge for at least an hour before serving.

Serve on a bed of lettuce.

Spinach option: if spinach is your thing, you can add about 250 grams of cooked and shredded spinach to the yolk mixture.

Is there life without lavashak?

Apparently not!

Or so some of my dear Iranian friends tell me. The looks of astonishment when I asked what lavashak was, led me on a long journey of discovery to the Caspian Sea and back.

And so, what is this thing called lavashak? Well, it is quite simply a trip down memory lane.

Lavashak hanging up at roadside shop

Picture, in your mind’s eye, something looking like a giant fruit roll-up. That is lavashak. Iran produces some of the tastiest and organic fruit I have ever eaten.  Given that so much of Iran’s topography consists of arid desert or mountain ranges, it is difficult to imagine that the country produces so much wonderful fruit. But it does. And the fruit is delicious.

Apart from the largest and sweetest watermelons you are ever likely to see on the planet, Iran grows fabulous cherries (both sweet and sour), apricots, plums and pomegranates. These latter fruits are normally used to make lavashak.

An age-old process transforms these juicy fruits into a healthy and preservative-free snack.  Known locally as “fruit leather”, the key to the best sticky and lip-smacking lavashak is to use sour and tangy fruit.  Plums and sour cherries appear to be the most popular.

Lavashak is made by a time-honoured recipe of boiling then drying the fruit in the sun. And nothing could be easier in a country as sun-soaked as Iran. Such recipes have been handed down from generation to generation. It is a taste of days gone by but still enjoyed as much as ever. Best of all, it allows the fruit of the earth to be preserved and then eaten at any point in the year.

The method is not difficult.  Your fruit of choice is placed in a large pot and simmered until there is little or no juice left. Then the fruity mush is liquidized and poured into a large metal tray that has been oiled first. Deftly, you then spread the fruit mix out over the tray, cover with a piece of cheesecloth and set in the sun for several days until it is dried.  Modern cooks apparently cheat a little on this lengthy process, and cook the lavashak in the oven to help the drying process along.  And finally, when everything is ready, you need to skillfully roll it up, or fold it into little parcels and eat it.

Lavashak for sale!

And here, is where nostalgia plays its part. I was told that lavashak reminds people of holiday time and long drives to distant places.  Older people reminisce fondly about their youth, playing outdoors and eating strips of the stuff.  Exciting journeys to the seaside and to the mountains, even trips to the desert are not complete without a stop somewhere to pick up some lavashak.

Although modernity has brought with it commercial lavashak neatly packaged in brightly coloured bags, nothing can beat buying it from a roadside vendor.  Travel anywhere in Iran, and you can’t miss open trucks or little shops displaying lavashak in all its many flavours and deep rich colours.

You might want to come to Iran and taste it for yourself!

Lavashak

What you need:

Plums, apricots, cherries or sour cherries

The quantity depends on how much lavashak you want.  You could start with about 20 plums.

Oil to grease the tin tray

What to do:

Wash the fruit, take out the stones and put in a large pot.

Slowly boil until the water from the fruit has evaporated. Some recipes say to add a half-cup of water and one tablespoon of lemon juice at this stage, but the fruit should have enough water of its own. Be careful the fruit does not burn or stick to the bottom of the pan.

Use a strainer to remove skins, or put the whole lot in a food processor of liquidizer and zap it until you have a smooth puree.

Put some tin foil on top of a flat tin or cookie sheet. Grease the foil with some oil.  Pour the fruit puree onto the tray and using a spatula or the back of a spoon, spread the puree over the tray.

If you live in a place that is not too sunny, you can speed up the next part by baking the lavashak in the oven for 45 minutes to one hour at 250°F, 130°C, Gas Mark ½.

Cover the tray with some cheesecloth and leave in the sun to dry for two to four days.  Traditionally, in Iran the lavashak is left on the roof to dry.  Choose a good spot that is dust and pollution free.

After about four days, take off the cheesecloth and gently fold up the lavashak.

Caspian Trout and Pickled Garlic

Wondering what to do with all that leftover mirza ghasemi you made after the last blog? Well, fret no more! For I have found the answer.  Fish!

Ghezel ala or Caspian Trout

Last weekend we drove north towards the Caspian Sea to the old port town of Babolsar. The balmy sea breeze enveloping us with the sea haar made us rather ravenous. I did ask someone about good restaurants in Babolsar and was informed that the best Italian restaurant in Iran was to be found there. I do love Italian food, but I suggested to my informant that I could hardly go all the way up north to the Caspian and blog about Spaghetti Bolognese.

But help was soon to hand.  Our evening meal was ghezel ala, or Caspian Trout. Our ghezel ala had a smoky taste to it and was grilled with no sauces or marinades at all.  But, it was served with lemon quarters, pickled cabbage, salad and a large helping of warm mirza ghasemi.

It was, interestingly enough for Iran, served without any rice. Not even a grain! Some members of our little troupe were vocally disappointed about the absence of any rice, but nevertheless did manage to tuck into at least three basketfuls of machine made lavash bread.

More interestingly, however, was the plate of olives (zeytun) and pickled garlic (seer-y-torsh), which accompanied our trout. It is not the first time I have tried the north Iranian pickled garlic, and I certainly enjoyed it this trip. It was the perfect accompaniment for the fish and each clove I popped into my mouth was soft, juicy and just perfectly pickled.

I can visualize many a raised eyebrow at the concept of pickled garlic, but let me assure you it is fabulous.  And, despite what one might think about garlic breath, this is not the case. You can eat as much as you like and still sit next to your friends. In fact, one reliable source whispered into my ear that by the Caspian Sea you could eat as much pickled garlic as you like and no one will be the wiser. However, start heading over the mountains back to Tehran, and it is advisable to exercise caution with the amount of pickled garlic you consume.  It appears that the Caspian Sea air helps minimize malodorous garlicky fragrances.

Babolsar shopkeeper with pickled garlic

On our return to Tehran, we stopped at one of the many roadside shops and I stocked up on a substantial tub of local seer-y-torsh. The shopkeeper was most obliging with information and gave me a quick lesson on how to pickle garlic with malt vinegar and salt.

Standing behind four large vats of the stuff, she pointed out each variety. The first vat, brimming with fragrant seer-y-torsh, was from the ancient city of Hamadan (called Ecbatana on ancient maps). However, the vat behind that one had the shop owner’s particular brand, which, I was told, had been soaking for seven years and was far superior to anything else in the shop. Obviously, I obtained the very best that money could buy.

While ladling out my garlic, the shopkeeper leaned over her vats, and beckoned me with a conspiratorial wink. “It’s like everything else that has matured for while,” she said with a cheeky smile. “The older they are, the sweeter they become!”

Seer-y-torsh (Pickled Garlic)

Ingredients:

10 bulbs of garlic (do not peel them)

4 to 5 cups of malt vinegar

5 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar

2 tablespoons of sugar

3 to 4 tablespoons of salt

What to do:

Wash the garlic but leave skins on. Leave it to dry for a couple of hours.

Pour 4 cups of malt vinegar into a pot. Put in the garlic and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat and let it cook for about half an hour.

Turn off the heat, add the sugar and leave the garlic to cool in the vinegar mix.

Place the garlic in sterilized glass jars. Cover with the vinegar from the pot. Add the balsamic vinegar and salt. If the garlic is not covered in vinegar, top up with malt vinegar.

Seal the jars firmly.  Store in a cool, dark place for at least two months before using. The longer you keep them in the jar, the tastier they will be.