Sarma, and Kufta, and Lahmajoon – oh my!

Let’s face it, the economy sucks right now and everyone is trying to cut costs. Prior to the economic meltdown Mr. A and I had been trying slowly, bit by bit, to transform our eating and buying habits so they better fit a model of sustainability – that meant buying organic and/or buying locally produced meat and vegetables. While we were still living in Reno we got involved in a CSA (community-supported agriculture) basket, where once a week during an 18-week growing season we received mostly organic produce grown within 80 miles of our house. And let me just say it was fantastic! Eating became fun and interesting: “I’ve heard of fennel but I’ve never tasted it before. What can I cook this with and how?” We learned more about what grew well in our region and what didn’t. We learned new recipes and met new friends. It was a very community-driven and grounding (pun intended) experience.

In spite of our move, we decided to make an effort to continue to eat mostly meat and vegetables grown and harvested within our region. This is not as easy as it sounds. Most people are becoming increasingly aware of how far their food travels from the ground to the dinner plate. The hard part in talking to people about this issue is that they assume that if you want to be more consciencious about what you eat you should buy organic. The problem being that organic can still mean that it was shipped, half-ripe from 1200 miles away. On average, it takes 87 calories of fossil food to get 1 calorie of food to it’s destination (Kingsolver). I’m a new convert – when money is tight (and even when it’s not) I’d rather my money go to supporting farmers than to supporting oil companies.

But I digress. With the goal of living local, it wasn’t  long after we moved that Mr. A got in touch with some local rancher/farmers about ordering a whole lamb. Given his Armenian heritage, and anyone who knows him, this is not surprising. Almost all Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cooking is centered around lamb, and Armenian dishes are no exception. In fact, upon first meeting Mr. A’s family (we’d been dating for maybe 6 months) I was warned that they would offer me raw lamb to taste, and my response was “likely to determine whether or not they approved” of me.  ”Just kidding,”  he said. But it was hard to tell if he was serious or not.

In Mr. A’s family there can never be enough lamb. And for the most part, I’m inclined to agree. So last winter we bought a 18.5 cubic foot freezer – to store lamb, any meat Mr. A brought home while deer hunting, and any fruits and vegetables we stocked up on during the summer. The behemoth is still not full but what we managed to put in it last summer has definitely supplemented our fridge during these tight times.

And did I mention the never-ending supply of lamb. We’ve gone through two already. Mr. A has found decently-priced, locally-raised sheep . . . and he is in lamb heaven. We make sarma (similar to Greek dolmades), lamb chops, lamb tacos, lamburger casserole, leg of lamb, lamb stew, lahmajoon (an Armenian pizza of sorts). Between the lamb, the one deer we got this season, and the 30 pounds of fish we brought back from Alaska I haven’t bought any meat except the occasional chicken in almost 5 months.

So, in the trend of sticking with what I know here’s a recipe for sarma, as Mr. A and I learned how to make it from his family. This was originally written for a photo-recipe project my friend attempted to put together last fall.

Armenian Sarma

 

2 lbs ground lamb

1 cup rice to start (Uncle Ben’s long grain original rice works best)

1 ½  small cans of tomato paste

1 bunch parsley, finely chopped

1 medium onion, finely chopped

4-5 cloves garlic, adjust to your preference

1 tsp salt (to taste)

1 small jar grape leaves

 

Optional:

Lots of friends and good wine

 

 

Put all ingredients, minus the grape leaves, together in a large pot or bowl. Squish with your fingers until everything is mixed together. If you’re a little squeamish about the squishing with your hands, I don’t know what to tell you, it’s really the only way to mix it all thoroughly.

 

This is a family recipe, passed down from my husband’s grandfather, who immigrated to the US from Armenia after the first World War. After escaping the Armenian genocide in modern-day Turkey, Mike’s grandfather wanted to make a new start. He wanted very little to do with Armenian traditions and customs. Except for the food. He passed down his favorite dishes, which we found out later are primarily appetizers. Sarma was one of his favorites, and it has become a family tradition to roll sarma and fix other Armenian dishes on major holidays.  

 

Once you’re done mixing, taste it. Don’t be shy. Add more salt or rice if needed. In our family, this recipe is always subject to individual tastes. Some like more garlic, some more rice; it’s your choice.

 

Open jar of grape leaves and wash under cold water to get all the brine off. Lay the grape leaves out flat on a cutting board or large, flat surface. Take one leaf and place it on the cutting board vein side up. Cut or pinch off stem. Grab a small handful of lamb and rice filling. Mold it into a hot-dog shape and place toward the top of the leaf (near where the stem was). Grape leaves are shaped like hearts. First fold the rounded tops-of-the-heart over the meat. Then fold in the sides. Now roll the whole thing tightly, as if you were rolling a cigar. In fact that’s what it should look like when you are done: a cigar. You want to roll the sarma fairly tight, or else it will unravel during cooking, but do keep in mind that the rice will cause the filling to expand slightly.

 

Now rolling the sarma is fairly time-consuming. This is not a dish to be prepared for a week-night dinner. It requires several hours, depending on the amount of sarma you’re making. The time obviously goes quicker the more people you have helping, and wine always helps. In the kitchen craze the evening before one of our Armenian feasts, you’ll find most everyone taking a break at some point to sit down, roll sarma and talk.

 

Once the meat is gone, Place the remaining grape leaves on the bottom of a large (16 qt) stock pot. This will help prevent the bottom ones from getting burned. Stack the sarma in the pot, alternating directions as you layer upwards. Fill with water. Place a plate on top to keep them from floating away. Set a glass jar (we always use the grape leaf jar) filled with water on top of the plate to provide additional weight.

 

Boil for about an hour. Drain the pot, but be very careful as the greasy water can inflict a nasty burn. We always serve them hot, sometimes with a side of yogurt to dip them in. But this is a family favorite so I can vouch for the fact that they’re just as good eaten cold the next morning. Surprisingly, they also freeze pretty well.

“Mary had a little lamb . . . but I ate it.”

For Mother’s Day Mr. A and I decided to do something we’ve been wanting to do for awhile but haven’t had the time. And no, I’m not talking about sex. We went on a birding trip with the Audubon Society at a conservation area south of Spokane called Slavin Ranch. It was bitterly cold for a May morning but the area is fantastically beautiful with coniferous forest and sprawling wetland rushes and ponds. And the wildflowers are beginning to bloom (which makes it very hard for me to keep my attention on the birds)

While we were walking we got in an interesting conversation with a couple of people in the group about hunting and conservation. One man posed the question, “What gives someone else the right to hunt my animals? If they are on public land they are, by right, part mine. So what gives other people the right to hunt them?” With Mr. A working as a game and non-game biologist, this is a relevant issue for him and a question he not only wants, but needs to have an answer to.

Mr. A’s first and probably most obvious response was “Yes, but as public land it belongs to all of us.” Public lands are held in trust for the American people by the federal government and were set aside with multiple use mandates. There is no one public opinion and therefore no single public use of these pieces of land. Many public lands are set aside as wilderness areas, and the values and uses of these areas are outlined in the Wilderness Act passed in 1964 (I could digress and examine the language in this one document alone. It makes for an interesting analysis, but maybe another day).

Management agencies like the Bureau of Land Management, the National Park’s Service, and federal and state fish and wildlife departments have a responsibility to maintain the health of these lands, particularly wilderness areas, and hunting selected species is often one tool used to keep populations under control. So, for the sake of argument, let’s say that the man mentioned earlier (I’ll call him Bob) is right. The public does not have a right to hunt animals that have been trusted to the rest of the general public. How then do federal and state managers control populations? Bob was speaking specifically of deer hunting so I’ll use that as my primary example. Mr. A and I figured there are a couple options.

Option 1: Reintroduce native predators like wolves. Problem: Deer specifically tend to wander through populated areas. There are enough problems with wolf reintroduction in uninhabited areas. Wolves wandering through the suburbs creates a whole new set of problems.

Option 2: Managing agencies could thin the populations based on need themselves. Problem: Transparency. If a state agency, or any agency for that matter, were to harvest animals there is too much potential for abuse by the members of that agency. There would be public outcry over the whole process. Best solution to this problem? Let the public harvest the animals whose populations need to be controlled. You see the circularity of the problem.

Option 3: Don’t hunt. Problem: Starvation, disease, habitat degredation, general unsanitary conditions from dead deer carcarases littering the countryside.

These arguments seem pretty obvious to me and I’ve heard them numerous times before (though it does help in thinking through the problem.) The best explanation that Mr. A and I settled on boils down to a question of biology.

We are mammals and omnivores. For better or worse, we eat meat. There are several ways we can obtain the meat we consume. One is through commercial farms and dairies (and these range from the local organic farm to the mega-corporation that have crowded and sometimes inhumane conditions). Another is through hunting.

With more and more people becoming conscious of what they eat, both for health and environmental reasons, there has been a growing interest in organic and locally-grown food. While preganant and since the birth of Crazy Towhead, Mr. A and I have begun to learn more about our food and where it comes from. A large source of our learning has come from our involvement with a CSA (community-supported agriculture) while we were living in the Great Basin. This program delivers a weekly basket of organic and locally-grown vegetables and fruits to people who live in town. The subscribers are connected to the farmers via a newsletter and an end-of-the-season “day at the farm.” The “think global, eat local” concept, also popularized as the Slow Food movement, has been explained eloquently and persuasively by Gary Paul Nabhan in his book Coming Home to Eatand in Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, MIracle. The underlying idea in all of this is to know where your food comes from, how it was grown/processed, and to lessen the distance it travels to get to your table. In this way consumers can eat healthier food, support local economies and small-scale agriculture, reduce their carbon footprint, and it encourages people to be more concerned about the health of their own ecosystem since that directly affects what they eat.

Whether people approve of hunting or not, there is no better way to know your own food and where it comes from than to go out and harvest it yourself. When fruit comes from Chile or Mexico we don’t think twice about it but what do we know about the water supply in that area? The vast majority of people eat meat but a small fraction of those know where that meat came from, what that animal was fed, and thus know very little about what they’re eating. Most don’t want to know. And that’s OK. There are parts of biology and anatomy that are not all that appetizing. But as Mr. A said, “The only person who I think has a right to object to me, or anyone, hunting is a vegetarian.” And we do have a number of vegetarian friends. Ironically a large number of them will eat game meat. We’ve jokingly dubbed them “gametarians.” Perhaps this is because most of the vegetarians we know don’t eat meat because they object to the way meat is raised and processed in this country. But most of them don’t object when they know the animal lived a life in the wild, who shot it and how it was processed.

 Given the consumption rate of first world countries, the US in particular, it seems to me that we have an ethical responsibility to choose (when possible) what we eat and how that food is produced. Whether they exist on public or private land, isn’t hunting selectively better than eating meat from a corporate farm that potentially abuses the animal, or kills it an inhumane way, and pollutes the surrounding environment by the concentration of animals it packs into a smaller space (ie feces concentration in the local water supply)?

So Bob, the answer Mr. A and I came up with is this: It is more than anything else a question of biology - we eat other organisms to survive.  If we are concerned about our environment and the species that co-exist with us then we should be more concerned about where our food comes from and how we harvest it. And if that’s the case the main ethical question should not be whose land it’s on or whether we should kill other organisms in the first place, but how do we better connect with what we eat. How do we change our habits so that our bodies, our deer, and our ecosytem beneft from a necessary biological exchange?