A Friday afternoon lunch
Campus Kitchen in the Eastern Jordan Badia looking over the Saudi Arabian border
Sorry it's been so long, but the times have been crazy. Following flu outbreaks, work piling up from all directions, days spent among ancient ruins and days spent in desert wastelands, things have finally settled down a bit here in Jordan as the semester approaches its end.
I've thought a lot about my experiences here, and there's one idea which I can't get past. Last spring, when I was filling out all of the required pre-departure material, I came across a question which required a well-thought out answer, but I knew immediately what would work best for me.
When it came to deciding whether I should live with a host family or live with a few classmates in our own apartment, I couldn't see myself living with a local Jordanian family throughout the entire semester for a number of reasons. I had lived on my own over the summer and really enjoyed the experience, so I knew at least that much going into the semester.
My decision all came down to the Middle Eastern perception of privacy. America thrives on its individualism, but over here one finds a culture and society based on the ideals of collectivism, the depth of which I had never really known in the past.
At home I cherish my privacy and the ability to do things on my own, and after the first few weeks of living in our apartment and hearing stories of friends' experiences with their families, I knew I had made the right decision.
But throughout this semester I kept going back to the thought that maybe I should have sacrificed some of my own comfort in order to maximize my experience in Jordan. Was I missing out on these great experiences being part of another family and learning all of things I could never learn in the classroom? Had it even affected what I was learning in the classroom? I saw my friends' abilities in the Arabic language flourish while I couldn't judge my own progress, and they explained how much they practiced with their family at home.
I would also miss out on all of the traditional Jordanian cooking, a consequence of the decision which had a direct affect on my work with Campus Kitchen this semester. What had I done? Had I made a mistake?
This past weekend my roommates and I were invited to lunch in my landlord's apartment. Ours is fortunate situation. We live in a building with three floors, an apartment on each. On the top and bottom live students from my program, and in the middle lives my landlord with her family. We have a hybrid experience, as we have the independence that comes with living in an apartment but also the support system that comes with living with a Jordanian family. Overall, I think things worked out pretty well.
The lunch was great. The entire extended Samain family was there and we had the opportunity to see what living in a home-stay would have been like just for one day. And, of course, the food was delicious.
We had the best chicken mansef dish I've had since I've been here, adorned with almonds and spices I've never experienced. There were fruit dishes and vegetable dishes and rice dishes and fish dishes, I had no idea what I was eating but I couldn't get enough. That seems to be the case a lot of the time here. The family had to leave out the serving dishes until I had done getting plate after plate, but I've found that they enjoy the appreciation of their cooking.
We followed our meal with a dessert neither my friends nor I can define. We had asked the family and the guests both in English and in Arabic and we couldn't put our fingers on it. It's very similar to a rice pudding, but the rice is mashed into finer pieces and is topped with pistachios and syrup. One of my friends had found some comparable dish in our traditional American cuisine, but I hadn't even tried that back at home. Regardless, I had four pieces and was stuffed beyond gluttony at the end of lunch.
As we were following dessert with coffee, I had time to sit back in my chair and look around the home and the sacred Friday afternoon family gathering. After all, this was the first time I had been in a Jordanian home, and I took in a lot during those few hours.
I had come to known the family and their sons over the semester and I would consider them all friends, and it was great to see what their family was like. The three sons, all in their 20's, told their lively nieces stories while the mothers and the wives of the family helped with the cooking and the cleaning. The fathers and the husbands enjoyed discussing the events of the week and made an effort to come speak to the American students who were their guests for the day. They all worked through their English as we worked through our Arabic, but, as has been the trend here, we find each other somewhere in the middle.
One of my friends has actually been living with the Samain's this semester for his home-stay, and I noticed his place among those who had been housing him for the semester. He had studied in Jordan over the summer, and his proficiency in Arabic was apparent as I listened to him speaking with his host-father all throughout lunch. Was I missing out on everything he had been a part of these past few months? I was witnessing something I had never seen in Jordan, and some part of me wished I had taken the opportunity to live as a son within a Jordanian family, but I knew at this point I had made the right decision not to live with a family. The fact that I didn't live with a family didn't necessarily mean that I was missing out on the Jordanian study abroad experience, but rather, I realized then that I was just experiencing something different yet comparably valuable.
One of my roommates has become a good friend over the course of the semester. Knowing that not living in a home-stay would be better for both us and the families that would be potentially housing us, I realized at lunch that we were unknowingly compensating throughout the semester for the choice we had made not to live with a family.
As students our program requires us to take a course dedicated entirely to teaching us the Arabic of the streets, the collo quial language used more commonly on a daily basis, the slang we would have never known otherwise. My friend and I really enjoy this class, and our professor really enjoys our presence in the class, because whenever she asks us what we had done that day or that weekend we always have a story for her, and we can always express it in Arabic. We have no stories from our home-stay families or from weddings or birthday parties for our Jordanian siblings, but we have taken our study abroad experience to the streets, and I feel we have learned so much through our experiences.
We make our way throughout Amman, jumping from fast food joints to restaurants to clubs befriending everyone in between. We go along with good Jordanians friends and get rides from their friends who take us to their friend's place. By the end of the day we've met so many welcoming people and seen so much of Jordan outside of our apartments, and we're constantly looking back on everywhere we've been and everything we've done. We may not have families of our own, but we've made friends with the people of Jordan, and they've shown us more than we could have ever seen without them. Not to mention how many different restaurants we've sampled. Jordan has a lot to offer, and I wish I could bring a lot of it back with me. I hope to hunt down a local shawarma place or another Royal Snack back in Winston-Salem, but I know I never will and if I did they'd never have that Jordanian touch I've come to love.
Through our experiences we’ve realized that our abilities in Arabic have taken off and that we’ve seen so much of Amman and the rest of Jordan. And to think, some of what we’ve done wouldn’t have been possible with families, keeping in mind curfews and other commitments. But, overall, I think each student in my program has gotten what they’ve hoped to, family or no family, and each situation have been invaluable in influencing our study abroad experiences.
I have about a month left here in Jordan, and I’m trying to make sure to fit in as much as I can in the time I have left. Hopefully within the next few weeks I will catch up on the posts between my studies that I’ve been meaning to publish. I love Jordan more and more every day but I also miss being back home more and more everyday as well. Insha'Allah the next few weeks will be the best yet.
One of my favorites
Days begin early here in Jordan. 6:00 a.m. rings my alarm clock and hours of Arabic follow. The curriculum over here is challenging indeed but I’ve enjoyed my studies at the University of Jordan very much since I first started classes 2 months ago. And it helps that I have some of my favorite food to look forward to as lunch nears and my professors’ dictations get slurred with stomach growls.
I have enjoyed the premier venue in which to break the midday fast nearly every weekday since I’ve been here, and I do so with a number of other Jordanian students.
The University of Jordan provides excellent dining options on campus, from smaller cafés to full-functioning bakeries and delis. But above them all stands one: the University of Jordan dining hall.
I’ve found nowhere else such a well-executed balance among the factors which contribute to a fine dining experience. Some restaurants are excellent but too expensive, and some are dirt-cheap but taste just what one could imagine 25 qirsh of food would taste like.
But the dining hall has found that balance and I like to enjoy all it has to offer on a daily basis.
The Food: Walking into the spacious dining area may appear disappointing at first, as it resembles your stereotypical high school cafeteria. But looks can be deceiving and the long wait in line is worth the end result. Behind nose-guards and plastic-wrapped bowls sit just what I had hoped to find in Jordan, and day after day my eyes continue to conquer my stomach.
The first section contains the essentials: hummus, baba ghannouj and stacks upon stacks of cooling pita bread. Some days the cooking staff adds a tabbouleh dish or some chopped vegetables in a light sauce and they’re a welcomed touch. To these I’m faithful each day and I don’t want to imagine what my lunch experience would be like without them.
Next one finds the yogurts and the desserts. Among the Jordanians yogurt seems to be one of the more preferred choices. Though I’ve enjoyed a number of meals with a nice bowl by my side, I’ve found that the yogurt doesn’t do much to enhance the meal, so I’ve moved past it. I feel similarly about the desserts. The different cakes and pastries are a nice addition but they’re not the reason I like the dining hall as much as I do, although they’re another popular choice among my friends. There is one dessert, though, I would suggest passing over. On this small dish lay two sugary nuggets, what I thought resembled the familiar zeppole. After my first bite I knew I had made a bad decision. I couldn’t tell of what they were composed, but it almost seemed as though a ball of sugar had been deep fried and then coated in a waxy syrup. My teeth blistered the rest of the day, and as I brushed and rebrushed them when I got home I made a note to avoid anything that even resembled these monsters in the future. My teeth hurt just thinking of them.
But I mainly go to the dining hall every day for what Jordan likes to call their meat and potatoes: mansaf. As the national dish of Jordan, it doesn’t get much better here than a nice plate of mansaf. Typically, mansaf combines specially-cooked lamb mixed with a heavily spiced rice. Simple and delicious. The UJ dining hall, though, has gone and substituted the lamb with chicken, which I actually prefer. I feel the lamb works in more formal occasions, whether a family dinner or a Ramadan feast, and the chicken is so basic and daily and easy it just works and tastes better.
There are also two different rice options from which to choose, a plain yellow rice or a brown mixed with spices and small vegetables. They both have their advantages and disadvantages, but I tend to go with the brown rice. It’s almost a mini meal of its own in its ability to maintain such a variety of flavors and textures, and, with a nice chicken leg on top, it’s a main course that has yet to disappoint. There’s also an assortment of different soups on any given day, ranging from a lentil or chicken broth with mixed meats to the more vegetable-based with added potatoes. I’ve tried them as they've come and with a piece of bread they’re a great addition to the meal.
The Price: The first day I went to the dining hall I was conservative in my choices, as I didn’t know how much I would be paying for each. I had heard estimates range from half a dinar to 50 dinars, so I didn't know what to expect (US $1.00 = JD .708) . I had still gotten a good amount of food, so I estimated I’d be spending about 5 dinars on that meal. My total had been rung up at JD .850. I was shocked. All of this, drink included, less than a dinar? After sitting down and finding out how the good the food actually was, I knew I had found my place.
The Atmosphere: When I get out of class late on some days I’ll enter a packed dining hall, lines pushed back to the walls. But seeing this lively part of campus in full swing before I get to eat is another experience in itself. Singing boom-boxes next to empty trays blast the day’s pop music and the serving staff may seem to mean business but they enjoy cracking a joke whenever they can. Cigarettes and pepsi chase mansaf dishes and conversations just begin after the meals end. My friends and I usually end up talking to a group of Jordanian students as we wait in line. As they struggle with English we struggle with Arabic, but the exchange always ends somewhere in the middle with bouts of laughter throughout.
I may find better restaurants with better food in the future, but I won’t give up the UJ dining hall. I’ve found such a convenient and enjoyable way to get a little bit more of Jordanian culture every day, all with healthy food at the price of a lifetime and stomachs filled to the brim after every meal. I couldn’t ask for more.
Ramadan Kareem, Part II: Iftar
After fasting throughout the day, the evening meal, Iftar, is a cherished event. A practicing Muslim breaks his fast during this meal at sunset, after hot desert coals have cooled and the day’s work is done. Communities come together to celebrate with family and friends, and we were lucky enough to experience this great event and all of its traditions.
We concluded the first week’s orientation by having one more group dinner before we all moved to our respective apartments and home stays. I wish I could remember the name of the restaurant where we dined, but many of the smaller details of my first week in Jordan remain a blur. I am still hopeful I will stumble upon the place at some point before I leave.
We walked through grand stone entrances and exotic fountains as a group of 80 to an outdoor seating area, half of which we had reserved for the night. With six to a table, we sat down on lowered tables and comfortable cushions to a fully prepared banquet. The restaurant was packed, with a few families to a table each, the scene set with lively conversation and a dim sky.
The breaking of the fast, as I saw on different occasions throughout Ramadan, was marked by the eating of dates. The fruit has a long tradition in the area of Southwest Asia and Northern Africa, and has become a signature ingredient of a traditional iftar here in Jordan. We enjoyed a stacked plate with heavy fruit juices to begin our meal.
I moved on to the lentil soup, another starter to the meal. This soup, like the dates, has a nice texture to it, which made the transition from fast to feast more gradual. Had I jumped the gun and gone for the big stuff, I don’t think I would have made it to the finish line.
After the warm-up, the main part of the meal was a sight for hungry eyes. The table was covered from corner to corner with the best Jordan had to offer. When I decided to come to the Middle East, one of the things I was most excited to explore was the traditional food, and at that table I felt as though I had finally arrived. I knew I would enjoy every minute of it.
I will try to illustrate the setup at our table. There was a central circular serving dish, outlined by a ring of different dips, sauces and finger-foods. In the circle rested all of the breads and meats on top of a large circular-shaped piece of thinner crepe-like bread, with your chickens and beefs, as well as the thick pita bread. On the ring we had bowls with traditional tabbouleh, a Middle Eastern salad composed mainly of chopped parsley, mint, tomatoes and onions mixed with olive oil and lemon juice; bowls of Baba Ghannouj, an eggplant dish mashed and flavored with different seasonings and oils; bowls of hummus and bowls and kubbeh, a breaded croquette stuffed with minced beef or lamb mixed with different herbs and seasonings. We had bowls upon bowls of foods I didn’t even know but savored nonetheless. All I had to do was grab some pita bread, some meat and any other ingredient and throw it all together into what I like to think as the Jordanian version of our hamburger. The best part of the entrée portion of the meal, though, would have gone unconsumed if it weren’t for the generous advice of our neighboring local Jordanians. We hadn’t realized the bread on which the rest of the meal had been resting, the thinner kind, had been soaking up the best flavors of the meat, and we were invited to tear apart the edible serving tray and indulge.
With eyes bigger than my stomach, I forced myself to make room for the rest of the meal. I couldn’t miss out on anything. I was appreciative of our server giving us some time to rest before dessert, and then quickly stuffed myself silly once he returned with my favorite Middle Eastern treat so far.
He approached our table with a single plate of an unknown stacked dessert. It looked to be some sort of stuffed, rolled-up crape, similar to an empanada, drenched in a sweet syrup. I discovered these were qatayef, which were stuffed with walnuts, coconut or different cheeses. We each stuck our forks in the heart of the pockets, but we quickly saw around us that hands were a perfectly acceptable, and preferable, method of eating the qatayef. We all enjoyed them thoroughly, but we were a little disappointed when a Jordanian friend informed us that qatayef is typically only served during Ramadan. I am happy to have had them while they were around, but these days I am missing them dearly.
We finished our meal in the Middle Eastern fashion: tea, coffee, cigarettes and hookah (known here as argeelah, hubbly-bubbly, or sheeshah). We reveled in conversations with locals from the city and with our Jordanian professors, and I noticed quickly the sense of community inherent in this holiday and in this culture.
Having experienced Ramadan has been one of the highlights of my time here in Jordan so far. I really enjoyed our experience at the restaurant and elsewhere and having the chance to see what a nation celebrates within their culture. I knew this when, while I was at our table of 6 guys, we each had sat back with legs comfortably crossed, cigarette in hand, looking around and observing extended families enjoying the food and each other’s company. We would get laughs of approval from our Jordanian companions: “That is the spirit of Amman!”
Before we knew it, we had spent 4 hours at this restaurant, having eaten and drunk late into the night. Iftar, and meals in general, I’ve noticed, have such a great importance in this part of the world. The event is the meal itself, the large gathering of celebration. What I look forward to most on the weekends are these epic meals with new friends, and I hope to bring at least some of the spirit of these experiences home with me in order to share one of the great traditions Jordan has offered me while I’ve been here.
Ramadan Kareem, Part I: Suhoor and the First Taste
Here in Jordan and the Islamic world the holy month of Ramadan has been over for a few weeks, but its impression on me is still fresh and will continue to shape the rest of my time here.
In the Islamic tradition the month of Ramadan is defined as the month of fasting during which participating Muslims refrain from drinking, eating, smoking, and any other indulgent or excessive activity, from dawn until sunset. According to the Qur'an, Ramadan is a time where Muslims relearn the value of modesty and patience in an effort to strengthen their connection with God, and as such Muslims may offer more prayers is usual for the rest of the year. In these ways, Ramadan is a time of forgiveness for past sins, a time of good spirits and well-being, a way to look towards the future with confidence in God and His guidance in this world.*
As a foreign observer, I encountered everywhere I went a strong reminder to be respectful of the public practices during Ramadan. I had arrived in an Islamic country, where livelihood is defined by prayer and the nighttime glow of green-lit minarets, and not until I had stepped onto the desert soil did I realize my place here in the Jordanian and Islamic world.
For the first few weeks I was here, eating or drinking in public was prohibited. We were provided with Ramadan “safety-kits,” which contained a small bottle of water and few things to nibble on, which we could only enjoy discretely and in our own privacy. After a few days here, though, I became curious and wanted to see what it would be like to participate in the fast, to practice first-hand a modesty millions had known and were continually rediscovering. And, I thought to myself, would I ever be over here during Ramadan again? I had to try at the least.
The day begins at dawn, before the first call to prayer, where Suhoor, the morning meal of Ramadan, is served. For the first few days I was here during the holy month, our program had located us in a local hotel, which provided a great first taste of the country. Now we weren’t eating at dawn, but we began the days early and heartily with a variety of Jordanian cuisines. I would treat myself to all they had to offer. I couldn’t get enough.
With a few plates in hand, I rifled through each tray, making sure I didn’t miss a crumb. I would begin with a variety of olives, creams and oils, all thrown together in a swirl of Mediterranean influence. Thyme and sesame seeds and spices would make their way into the hummus and yogurt, but the warm pita bread didn’t discriminate and I stuffed in all I could. Slices of mortadella with bits of olives and different morning meats were a welcomed treat. I couldn’t pass up your standard scrambled eggs, and made sure I didn’t miss the different butters, jams and spreads. Once I dropped off the goods I returned to the chasers: coffee on my left and tea on my right. I’m not much of either, but when I indulge I like my coffee black and my tea pure, and they were the right fit for the rest of the feast.
From glutton to hermit I would go through our busy orientation schedules fulfilled after a successful suhoor, looking forward to later in the evening when we would really discover what it means to be in the Middle East during Ramadan: my first Iftar
*Facts about Ramadan and Islam provided by Wikipedia.
Introduction, Part II: I’m still here!
Sorry for the lack of updates, but through technical difficulties and the ongoing process of cultural adaptation, I've been hard at work and I am ready to let everyone know what I've been up to since I arrived just four weeks ago.
So far, I've experienced a wealth of obstacles, amusements and adventures:
Take my housing accommodations, for instance:
Midtown localized hotels, Desert tent resorts, and apartments and housing facilities in neighboring countries.
I've also been to different parts the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, from the deserts of Wadi Rum to the seas of Aqaba, and even to areas of the greater Middle East. And I've been here for one month. I feel as though September has provided me with such a deep pool of experience that I can take a step back at this point and put some personal touch on what's been going all around me.
A bit about Amman, though. So far, I've really enjoyed my experience living and studying here in the capital of Jordan. I grew up around the busy streets of New York City, so I've always been attracted to the city life. But I've found, like I did when I first got to Winston-Salem, North Carolina, that I like that kind of lifestyle on a lower scale, sort of a compact city within a town of its own. Amman, to me, is like that in some ways. I take a taxi to class every morning at the University of Jordan, with varying degrees of crazed driving and traffic jams each day, but I like the different aspects of city life here. The people are very welcoming and, after spending a week in Egypt for Eid al-Fitr, it's strange to say that returning to Amman felt like I was coming home, to a familiar and cherished place. I've grown comfortable here, settled in, and I'm really looking forward to investing more time in everything that city and the rest of this part of the world has to offer.
Some quick facts about Jordan:
- The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan lies in the heart of the Middle East, bordering the countries of Israel and the Palestinian territories, Syria, Iraq and Saudi Arabia. Jordan also shares control of the Dead Sea with Israel.
- Jordan has access to the Red Sea via its only port city, Aqaba, in the southern part of the country.
- Amman is the capital of Jordan. With a population of roughly 2.5 million, Amman is the largest city in Jordan, and in many ways it serves as the commercial and industrial center of the country.
- Jordan is a constitutional monarchy with representative government under the rule of King Abdullah II. The official language of the country is Arabic, and Jordan's official religion is Islam, with 92% of its population Sunni Muslim (6% Christian, 2% Shia Muslim/Druze).
- The University of Jordan, located in Amman, was founded in 1962 and is the oldest and largest university in Jordan, with a student population of roughly 40,000. *
I am publishing this blog as a member of the Campus Kitchen community at Wake Forest University. I've been a volunteer at Campus Kitchen ever since I got to Wake Forest, and when I was approached with the offer to take what Campus Kitchen tries to accomplish in Winston-Salem to another part of the world, I became very excited thinking about the different possibilities. I'll be eating a lot, insha'allah, enjoying the cuisine of a foreign place, while trying to think about the food a little more and a little differently than we usually do. I hope you enjoy reading what I write as much as I enjoy eating what I eat here in the great Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.
Campus Kitchen at the Ancient Ruins of Petra in Southern Jordan.
*Facts provided by Wikipedia
On my Way
Hello, everybody!
Teddy Aronson here, serving as your International Food Correspondent in Amman, Jordan, for the semester. I will be departing for the Middle East this evening, and I am anxiously tying up all loose ends here in the West. I am flying out of JFK around 10 p.m., which gives me a fortunate opportunity to soak up a few final drops of American culture as I weave through the streets of New York City one last time.
I've done my research, studied my materials, and I hope at this point that my remaining uneasiness will be greeted in the dry, desert climate with the warm Jordanian welcome of which I've already heard so much. Jordan, a historically young nation, is such a rich area of the Middle East in its cultural and political traditions, and I initially decided to spend my semester in its capital, Amman, because I felt it stood out in these ways.
Through my posts here I will be reporting on one area particularly interesting for me -- Jordanian cuisines -- and I hope that in my experiences with their food I will be able to bring a fresh perspective to the idea of a culture and its functions, the different ways a people treat what is both most practical and most important in their traditions.
Currently, the majority Muslim population is in the midst of Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting, during which all participants fast from dawn until sunset. Things should be interesting on the food circuit, and I hope you stay tuned for what is sure to be a unique experience!