Once upon a time, I sat on the warm floor of a kitchen. I cannot quite recall why I was sitting on the floor or how long for, but I do remember the four hands moving around the kitchen manning the stove, the fridge and the rolling pin. A pair of dark-skinned wrinkled fingers would every so often knead the dough while a fairer pair of spindly hands delicately lifted the homemade chapatis off the tava, a flat skillet.
Ayah, the term used for a nursemaid and my father’s childhood nanny, with her dark chocolate skin and her glistening glassy eyes, would direct her chatter at my grandmother as I tiptoed around the kitchen careful not to upset the delicate balance they created. Chapatis, or Indian whole wheat flatbread, became a way of life throughout my ephemeral vacations. Knead, roll, slap on the tava, flip, done. Could I ever learn this?
Every once in a while, Ayah would lay in front of me a chopping board and a rolling pin three times the size of my hands. Desperately trying to roll the dough into circles, I would listen to the sound of Hindi roll off her tongue as she’d throw more dough my way. This became a pattern. I would pretend to roll decently. She would pretend I spoke Hindi. A relationship had been born.
Years later, Ayah, the short old lad whom I had come to cherish, passed away and with her, my dreams of speaking Hindi and making the delicacies which she prepared daily. Being quite distant from my grandmother, I could no longer imagine a home without my father’s Ayah, my summer Ayah.
Time passed as it does with everyone. I grew up and was slapped with the sights and sounds of India upon reaching Malaysia when I moved there with my husband. They were right. Malaysia is truly Asia – such a fusion of colors and cultures that it hurts your eyes if you look too hard.
There are no in-betweens. The people are emphatically friendly or ridiculously rude, the food is tantalizingly delicious or excessively strange but the pace is almost always foolishly slow. Naturally, the locals don’t agree with me. They think they’re moving so fast that there couldn’t possibly be anywhere like the Cairo I describe. Only the Malaysian Indians concur and long to see Egypt, the country with a history as old as theirs.
Garlands of flowers, Bollywood music, loud men, spicy snacks and spice shops take me back to a place where I can pretend that Malaysia isn’t as foreign as it really is. But home is where the heart is and sometimes all I have on my mind is Cairo with its dusty streets and its rustic charm.
When I compare Kuala Lumpur to Cairo, I think of Kuala Lumpur as store-bought white bread – exciting at first but boring by the end. But Cairo is a loaf of artisan bread with a thick crackled crust and an airy soft inside.
Maybe I’m prejudiced but being in Cairo allows to me believe this more than ever. Cairo allows me to believe that it is the only beautiful city in the world and it is with sadness that I will have to say goodbye to return to Kuala Lumpur after a brief vacation back home, and leave our wonderful street food to find another part of me elsewhere.
What I’m trying to say is this: try hard to see the beauty in your city. Leave no stone unturned and no dish untested. Unearth the ingredients you’ve never used. Reinvent and rediscover Cairo and don’t be afraid of your neighbors. Drink coffee in their kitchens and exchange food ideas. Finally, don’t depend on others to keep our traditions alive: make bread.
Goodbye, Cairo. Stay safe until I see your radiant face again.
Whole Wheat Pita Bread:
Makes 16 pitas
1 teaspoon of dry yeast
2 and a 1/2 cups of tepid water (25-30 degrees Celsius)
2 and a 1/2 cups of whole wheat flour
1 tablespoon of salt
1 and half tablespoons of olive oil
2 and a 1/2 to 3 and a 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
Stir the yeast and water together in a large bowl. Using a wooden spoon and stirring in one direction, add the whole wheat flour a cup at a time. Stir until the mixture looks smooth and silky. This is the “sponge” that needs to rest, covered with plastic wrap for at least 1 hour (although it is best if it can rest longer, up to 8 hours in a cool place).
Sprinkle salt over the sponge and then stir in the olive oil, mixing well, again stirring in the same direction. Add the all purpose flour a cup at a time, mixing until the dough is too stiff to mix with the spoon. Scrape into a clean bowl (to knead by hand) or the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with the dough hook. Knead until the dough is smooth and elastic, 8 to 10 minutes. The dough will be moderately firm and have a slight sheen.
Rinse the mixing bowl, dry it and coat it lightly with oil. Transfer the dough to the bowl and turn to coat in oil. Cover tightly with plastic wrap. Let the dough rise at room temperature for 2 to 3 hours or until it doubles in bulk.
Deflate the dough by kneading it briefly. Divide it in half and keep one half under plastic or a cloth while you work with the other. Cut the dough into 8 equal pieces and with lightly floured cupped hands, form the pieces into tight balls; keep the balls under plastic while you work on the others. On a well-floured surface, flatten the balls of dough into a circle 8 to 9 inches in diameter and less than 1/4 inch thick. Cover, but do not stack the rolled out breads.
Bake in the oven. I used a pizza stone but you can also use a sheet pan. Preheat your oven to 230 degrees Celsius. Place the dough on the preheated stone/sheet and bake for 3-5 minutes or until the breads resembles blown-up balloons. Don’t worry if you get seams or dry spots or less than full balloons; the bread will still taste good. As the breads come out of the oven, wrap them together in a large kitchen towel. Finish baking this batch of bread, roll out the remaining dough and continue baking.
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