JELABI, POMEGRANATES AND THE ART OF BAKING NAAN

 Saturday morning shopping at the markets, a familiar and enjoyable pastime around the world. Our driver turns into the market and maneuvers the car into a space next to a group of motor bikes.
The open fronted shops are arranged around the square, at the front bordering the road is a dusty garden area. It is early by Islamabad shopping standards, shop keepers are still opening up and setting out their wares. A few old men stand around enjoying the weak sunshine and reading newspapers.

 The fruit and vegetable shops flow out in to the footpath. The baskets woven from gold and silver foil and decorated with coloured sequins sparkle. I am excited to finally visit a proper food shopping area; they are not so evident when driving around the city if you are not familiar with their location.

Our first stop is the grocers. We are greeted by the attendant and he rushes to hand us baskets. The shop is tiny, lined with shelves, packed from floor to ceiling. It takes a minute or two to take it all in. As we look closer we realise there are goods from all over the world – Twinings tea, jasmine and Arborio rice, cheeses from Greece, Italy and of course Happy Cow; every Asian sauce you could ever need, exotic spices, and piled on the bench in the middle of the room, bags of local nuts, dried fruits and grains. We fill two baskets remembering the almonds, couscous and tinned cherries we will need for our Christmas feast.

Next stop is for fruit and vegetables – beautiful glowing colours and it all looks so fresh.

Corrinne is exclaiming about the array of Asian greens, especially the Chinese cabbages. I am already planning a Middle Eastern extravagance using aubergines and pomegranates; bananas, apples and guavas are added to the basket.

I press my nose against the window of the fish shop; clear shining eyes stare back at me – trout, snapper and cod, lobster, prawns and crab – why has it taken me nearly one month to discover this Aladdin’s cave?

But the best is yet to come.

Last stop is for bread. Not your run of the mill ‘loaf of sliced white please’ here you put in your order and then wait for it to be baked!

Helle orders 8 naans, a larger than average order and we notice that those ordering one or two are allowed to jump the queue. There are three men involved in the production line. The first is preparing the dough, forming it into fat rounds. He passes it through a hatch to the baker who sits on an elevated platform outside, where we stand watching the performance. The baker flattens out the rounds, places then on a large padded board which he then uses to slap the dough against the wall of a tandoor oven. I lean over the edge of the platform trying to look into the oven but it is so deep all I can see is blackness. With the queue jumpers, it is taking some time to fill our order so I wander next door to investigate vats of thick glossy syrup that an old man stirs occasionally with a wooden spoon.

Oh YUM!! I have found the Jelabi maker!

For the uninitiated Jelabi is a sweet made by piping a batter into hot oil. The result is a crisp lacey disc which is then soaked in sweet syrup. The batter is so fine the syrup fills the hollow centre without the crispness being lost. I cannot resist. I wander back to the naan shop clutching a brown paper bag and dripping sticky syrup all over my fingers.

 Our bread order is nearly done. The baked rounds of bread are removed from the oven using a long metal rod with a hooked end. The baker flings the bread across to the packer who carefully piles the steaming rounds in newspaper, carefully not to crush the crisp bubbles that are characteristic of naan. The package is then slipped into the inevitable plastic shopping bag, Helle hands over rupees in exchange for the bag and the ceremony of Pakistani bread purchase is complete.  

 

 

SUPER FOODIES AT WORK!