Cardamom and Tea

A few weeks ago, I flew to Phoenix to celebrate Christmas with my whole big family. We had so much fun playing giant Jenga, hiking, and eating a million delicious tacos. While I was in town, I also got to cook with one of my favorite Assyrian food bloggers, Lisa from Seven Spice Life. We spent the morning at her house making an epic manakish feast, with lahm bi ajeen, and a couple of delicious variations on manakish za’atar (AKA manousheh).

The classic manakish with olives, tomato, labneh, cucumber, and mint was inspired by a trip Lisa took to Jordan, and the California-style one was inspired by all our favorite ingredients (goat cheese, blistered tomatoes, arugula, avocado, and garlicky pickled radishes). We used some incredible za’atar from Lisa’s brother-in-law’s family in Lebanon, and everything was just so perfect.

Here’s the base of the California-style one—Lisa had the idea to add the tomatoes and goat cheese to the pizza before baking, which was a stroke of brilliance!

I’ve got some photos and the recipe for the two manakish za’atar variations, and Lisa was generous enough to direct and edit a video with all three manakish, including the lahm bi ajeen.

za’atar manakish + variations

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Yield: 4 small manakish

Ingredients

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons za’atar
Salt, to taste (about 1/4 teaspoon)
1 pound pizza dough
Semolina or cornmeal, for sprinkling
Toppings (See notes below)

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Instructions

Place a pizza stone (or sheet pan) on the oven floor, move the oven racks up and out of the way, so you can easily access the pizza stone, and pre-heat the oven to 500° F (260°C).
Combine the olive oil and za’atar. Salt it to taste if you’re using unseasoned za’atar.
Lightly flour a clean, food-safe work surface, use a knife or bench scraper to divide the dough into 4 equal pieces, and shape each chunk into a round ball.
Roll each dough ball into a circle, about 1/8 inch thick. To keep the round shape, rotate the disc about 90 degrees after each time you roll it out, and be sure to re-flour the surface every so often.
Sprinkle semolina or cornmeal on a pizza peel or thin cutting board. Place one dough disc on the cutting board. Top with about 1/4 of the za’atar mixture (about a heaping tablespoon) and spread it out using your fingers or the back of a spoon. Top with 1/4 cup of feta cheese, if using. Let it rest for about 5 to 10 minutes before it goes in the oven.
Once the oven has preheated, use a quick motion to move the pie from the pizza peel onto the pizza stone. Cook for about 5-8 minutes, until the edges start to brown and the bread is cooked through. The dough should be crispy and chewy, like really good brick oven pizza.
Repeat with the remaining 3 pies.

Notes

Toppings:

california-style manakish za’atar
cherry tomatoes + goat cheese + lightly dressed arugula + avocado + pickled radishes/onions + olive oil

Add a few halved cherry tomatoes and a handful of goat cheese crumbles to the manakish za’atar base after the za’atar oil goes on. Bake as usual, until the pizza is cooked through, the goat cheese is melted, and the tomatoes are slightly charred or blistered. Once it comes out of the oven, top with arugula (dressed lightly with oil and vinegar), avocado, pickled radishes or onions, and a little more extra virgin olive oil.

classic manakish za’atar
labneh + olives + cherry tomatoes + Persian cucumbers + mint + olive oil

Bake the manakish za’atar base as the original recipe suggests. Top with labneh, halved olives, quartered cherry tomatoes, large-diced Persian cucumbers, a few sprigs of mint chiffonade, and some more extra virgin olive oil

When you have an ethnically-focused food blog, you’re always thinking about who you’re writing for. Am I writing for other people who share my heritage, or am I writing for everyone? Am I reminding someone of what they already love, or introducing someone to something they want to know more about? Am I connecting or explaining? Remembering or creating?

Of course the answer is usually both. But sometimes, I write a post with just my Assyrian friends, family, and readers in mind. This is one of those. If you’re not Assyrian, you should (as always!) feel welcome to read along and even try this recipe. And if you’re also Middle Eastern or North/East African, this might remind you of some of your favorites (like shish barak, mullah robe, or shakriyeh). But truth be told, dikhwa is one of those things that I think people only love if they grew up with it. It’s lamb and barley stewed in yogurt, done simply and perfectly, and served with love and community.

In my grandmother’s little Syrian village as well in the bustling Baghdad of my grandfather’s childhood, families would make dikhwa at home for dinner and holidays. But during my grandmother’s brief time in Beirut, dikhwa was a community event. At Christmas and Easter, the church served it to the entire congregation. The men set up three or four giant cast iron cauldrons outside and maintained the open fires, and the women prepared the dikhwa. The stew requires careful timing and frequent stirring, and it’s no wonder it was reserved for only the most special holidays.

Everyone makes dikhwa a little differently, but I’ve only been able to find one other recipe online from Julian of Assyrian Dishes, which is a wonderful variation if you prefer a more porridge-like dikhwa. My grandmother makes one that’s a bit more stew/soup-like. She makes a very sour homemade yogurt as the base of the stew, and combines it with par-cooked barley and lamb, which all simmer together for about an hour. The lamb falls off the bone and becomes incredibly tender, and the barley and yogurt carry its flavor. Some dikhwas are flavored with thyme or oregano, but my family keeps it simple with just the key ingredients. Make a big pot for your dottu today, and get ready for some tears, light criticism, and unforgettable stories.