Crappy holidays begone!
How to Warm a Cold Winter’s Night
My dad’s legacy: Algerian lamb stew with couscous
Torrential rains are unending now. The chickens are holed up, refusing to venture out of their cozy coop. The dogs have never held their pee this long in their hairy little lives. If the quarantine lockdown didn’t keep us indoors, the inundated landscape just said “Not today.”
Nevertheless, it’s the perfect weather for a steaming, peppery Algerian lamb stew with couscous to warm our bones and lift our spirits. Just like my father used to make.
My dad was of Scottish descent, son of Mormon shepherds in Twin Falls, Idaho, and later –– post-depression era –– of Ogden, Utah.
Later in life, after about 15 years as an Air Force pilot, he landed in Paris, without us kids and without our mom, who refused to “go live with all those foreigners.” There’s a big mystery about why he left so suddenly, but some say it was because he was in trouble with the IRS, some say CIA. This is another long and fascinating story for another time.
Meanwhile, in late 1950s Paris, Dad was working for International Telephone and Telegraph (ITT) Corp, a former American telecommunications company that grew into a successful conglomerate corporation before its breakup in 1995. My dad didn’t last that long there.
I was in high school when I received Dad’s letter, check enclosed, asking me to send him a 90-day Eurail pass, only available at that time to non-resident non-Europeans. It was incredibly cheap, even back then, allowing unlimited first-class travel throughout western Europe on modern, high-speed trains.
Many years later, I learned (part of) the truth: my father had been unemployed and homeless and living on the trains. We often laughed about it after a few glasses of wine as, in later years, he told tales of washing his socks and armpits in the train car’s lavatory. But at least he was off the streets, safe and warm. This phase lasted about six months before he found work again.
A handsome young man walked down a dark street searching for something delicious to eat. So many fine restaurants — Paris, left bank — Algerian lamb stew, with wine, just one franc.
No money for rent, he lived on the train from Paris to Brussels to Frankfurt-am-Main.
For him, to live the high life in Paris on almost no money at all was just another adventure in discovery. On trains by night, streets by day, he rediscovered Le Rive Gauche, the bohemian Left Bank of the River Seine. There he found his new favorite hole-in-the-wall Algerian restaurant that offered a hot bowl of lamb stew served over a steaming mound of couscous, with a glass of Sidi Brahim brassy red wine and crusty bread on the side. All this for un franc, or about 25¢ at the time.
A charmer with a flirtatious glint in his eye, he coaxed the secret recipe from the Algerian chef, along with that of harissa, a North African red chili paste made with chilis, garlic, olive oil, citrus, and aromatic spices like cinnamon and cloves. Every region has its own version of harissa and lamb stew, and over time Dad’s recipe evolved to become his own. And now my own.
Basic ingredients:
Lamb (cheapest cut) Other meats (pork, chicken — use those leftovers!) Tomatoes Turnips Carrots Zucchini Potatoes (optional) Raisins Garlic & Onions Chickpeas Wine (inexpensive harsh Algerian red works best) Couscous prepared with chicken stock
There are as many recipes for North African lamb stew as there are North African cooks. Keys to the exquisite flavors are the lamb, turnips, and harissa, as well as how much love surrounds the cooking pot.
Spices/Herbs
Harissa (I now use DEA brand), Rosemary, Lovage, Ground cloves, Ginger, Coriander, Cumin, Sugar, Vinegar, Ground pepper, Cinnamon, and any other aromatic spice in your cabinet. Feel free to throw the kitchen sink at this stew.
How to prepare the stew:
Over the decades of my American life, I spent as much time as possible visiting my father in Germany and France, and each visit began with a bottle of champagne and a long nap under a fuzzy lambskin, Dad’s “very effective special cure” for jet lag.
The next morning, refreshed and eager for whatever adventure Dad has in store for me, we begin The Couscous Ritual immediately after breakfast.
Egyptian pop, belly dance greatest hits, drums, and finger cymbals rock the kitchen as Dad begins to sauté the lamb. The wine bottle opens, crusty bread appears (reportedly to soak up the early morning alcohol), and everyone starts dancing around the kitchen table.
Still dancing, I’m sent to the garden to fetch baskets of tomatoes, zucchinis, onions, carrots, turnips, and anything else ripe for the picking. Into the stew pot they go, fortified with more wine and spicy harissa. In winter visits, I’m sent to the freezer on the back porch and to the underground root storage.
Not one muscle on any person in the house refrains from flexing in sync with those irresistible, exotic Middle Eastern rhythms. Doom tekka doom tekka doom tekka doom! Bring on the hip scarves! A belly dance is breaking out!
“More wine!” I’m sent to the local supermarché to replenish “cooking” supplies, returning to find 90-something year-old neighbor “Auntie” swinging her hips and splashing champagne from her glass to accentuate the festive mood. Music, wine, more wine, and the couscous preparation ritual transcend language barriers, and soon we’re chatting like mad hatters, dancing and laughing until we all fall down in a multilingual pile of rubberized bones.
Dad clangs the pots together to announce that dinner is served, just as the sun begins to sink behind the western forest.
Warm-up your winter!
So now that you know my “secret” recipe for couscous with lamb stew, and that there’s so much more to a great meal than ingredients and a recipe, I highly recommend that you try this to warm up your holidays and get your quarantined body off the couch at the same time.
My dad left this planet more than 20 years ago, but he lives on in my celebration of his couscous ritual (aka “Ritchie-al”), still dancing and rocking that tiny French kitchen with exotic scents and sounds and flavors and fun, and most of all, with Dad’s unbounded love for his little girl.
Thanks for reading! May 2020 be the last of our “Crappy Holidays” and may you all find peace, love, and laughter, and lamb stew with couscous this holiday season, no matter what.
And for another fun romp with my dear dad, I offer you my best “pig love.”
