Ye, but not quite. As we saw above most other people, Arabs, Persians etc. refer to balls of plain ground lean (spiced as desired) meat, maybe in Armenia too, which is not much different from what we call losh khorovats, but in the diaspora kufta is usually meant ground meat mixed and kneaded with tsavar (cracked wheat) and they have a variety of them, like hum (raw) kufta, mijukov, where the ball or the oval shaped ones are stuffed with a variety of fillings in the center, all the way from fat(jarp), to nuts and more ground meat, a variety of vegetables, they are either stewed in chicken, meat broth or even matsun, they may be fried or baked, then there is the flat kind, which is called pan (tapak/տապակ) kufta, which also usually has a filling between two layers, it is usually baked and cut in diamond shape, like tertoush/թերթուշ(baklava).
BTW. Kololak is a variation of the word klorak.
It is a well known fact that Syria in general and Aleppo in particular excels in Middle Eastern cuisine. Everything aside, pastries, baklavas made by the likes Mousaddat and Mahrousseh are world renowned and are shipped all over the world.
What is interesting too, no surprises, that the people mentioned below seem to be Christians. Also note what they call that delicacy that we call “hum kufta”, “raw kubbeh”, in fact, in their language they call it “kubbeh nayyeh/raw/hum”, while ome of us still insist to call it by its disgusting turdish name.. It would not too farfetched to assume that we , as well as some of neighbors learned the art from them, except that we still call them by those disgusting names. “disgusting”? Can I use such words when taking about food?
ANCIENT ALEPPO CUISINE TASTES OF CONQUEST AND TRADE
by Khaled Yacoub Oweis
Reuters, UK
http://www.reuters.c...450249520071024Oct 24 2007
ALEPPO, Syria (Reuters Life!) - Chef Yann Ghazal minces onion, bulgur,
lamb and sun-dried chili paste according to an ancient recipe for
quince kubbeh, a sweet and sour delicacy influenced by Aleppo's trade
with China.
The blend is shaped into an oval and filled with meat, nuts and
onions. A sauce of quince pieces, garlic, pomegranate molasses and
mint distinguishes the dish from 40 kubbeh varieties still made in
homes across one of the oldest inhabited cities on the planet.
"If you mince the
raw kubbeh too much you lose the crunchy taste. The
meat is young lamb that is grazed on nothing but wild pastures,"
Ghazal said, while mincing by hand and adding water to the mixture
in a clay bowl.
"All ingredients are organic and most are grown around Aleppo. There is
good appreciation of taste here," said the 25-year-old chef who trained
at the Pourcel Brothers in France before returning to his home city.
With silk road fame and cosmopolitan prosperity, today's Syrian city
of Aleppo was the culinary capital of the Middle East before cultural
and commercial decline took its toll.
Syria is opening up its economy in the last few years after decades
of nationalization and state control and reviving interest in the
city's cuisine.
A recipe for quince kubbeh was found documented in an 800-year-old
book on Aleppan cooking. The cuisine traces its origins to various
invaders who coveted the great city, from Seljuks, Mamluks, Ottomans
as well as Armenian and Circassian refugees. Recipes have even come
from Africa through Yemen.
Aleppo shares with the Iraqi city of Mosul a specialty for rice
kubbeh, which does without the traditional bulgur, a crushed and
partially boiled cereal mix. The two cities have ancient family and
trading links.
Thousands of Iraqis refugees fled to Aleppo after the 2003 U.S.
invasion of Iraq and a lot of Iraqi dishes are being incorporated
into menus at food stalls which dot the streets.
But Abu Nabhan, an Aleppo institution in the Khan al-Wazeer district,
still does brisk business only selling grilled or fried liver,
called melak mutajan, the same phrase used to describe an overbearing
person. A street in Bab Jenin district is dominated by shops selling
zatar, a thyme mix.
Unlike a number of Aleppo restaurants, Ghazal does not use copious
amounts of fat and has built upon his French training to develop
dishes he first learnt from his mother.
Now Ghazal serves ice-cream with mamounieh, the simpler of usually
sophisticated Aleppan desserts. Mamounieh is made from water, sugar,
ghee butter and semolina. Ghazal has also created a dish of humus
mousse cake wrapped in a layer of dried meat as part of a buffet he
oversees at Aleppo's Mirage Hotel.
"Chefs in France have started mixing Aleppan and European food and
customers like it," Ghazal said.
ACADEMY
The young chef was lured back to Syria by Nauman Wannes, a founding
member of the Syrian Academy of Gastronomy, which started a few years
ago in Aleppo to preserve and develop the city's culinary tradition.
The international Academy of Gastronomy in Paris has awarded Aleppo a
cultural gastronomy prize and a delegation from the Istanbul branch
lately visited Aleppo, which has dishes similar to ones known in
Turkey.
"Aleppo's location has been key. There are also dishes that are not
found even just outside city limits," said Wannes, whose upbringing
reflects the turbulence, tolerance and cultures that crossed Aleppo
and influenced its cuisine.
Wannes' father Najdat studied pharmacy during the Ottoman Empire in
Istanbul, where he met his Austrian wife. He returned to Syria and
became a leading opponent of the 1920-1946 French occupation but
still sent his son to study medicine in France.
Academy member Aida Gorani said Turkey's influence could be mostly
seen in Aleppan pastries and vegetarian dishes.
"It's still common to find Aleppans who speak Turkish or have a Turkish
aunt or grandparent," said Gorani while sampling an aubergine filled
with chickpeas and bulgur.
A lunch organized by the academy showcased salads, appetizers and main
courses from daily Aleppan home cuisines that take hours to prepare.
Thyme leafs decorate olive salad, another salad combines pickles
and vegetables, parsley omelettes have no milk and served cold,
yogurt sauce covers a zucchini (courgette) dish and green peppers
are stuffed with frikeh, or roasted green wheat.
"I live between France, Egypt and Lebanon, but this food is unavailable
anywhere," said Abboud Ghantous, a Syrian who runs a steel trading
conglomerate.
Majd Hinedi, another expatriate businessman who is planning to settle
back in the city, said they were still families in Aleppo who guard
famous dishes they have been exclusively making for centuries.
"Get a few Aleppans together and the conversation naturally turns
toward food," Hinedi said. "In Aleppo, cuisine is the equivalent
of art."
