Monthly Archives: November 2010

From my Files: Aleppo–sublime city of vernacular beauty

Note:  I wrote this article in 2005 after yet another visit to the northern Syrian city of Aleppo.  I tried unsuccessfully at first to place it with an US publication. In the wake of the September 11, 2001 attacks, US … Continue reading

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Black Friday: the attack of the snatchers

This year, Black Friday was here before today. In fact, it arrived, I am told, yesterday, even before the carving of the turkey and our collective frenzy to stuff ourselves silly with food.  Not that I am complaining–about the stuffing … Continue reading

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Baked Apples for Thanksgiving

Note: I had posted this recipe earlier.  Several readers asked that I re-post it with a picture which shows the actual dessert in all its majesty.  I have included general, rule-of-thumb sort of measurements because there is nothing to measure … Continue reading

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Rx for the common cold: Lemon-egg chicken soup

This soup is the mother of all chicken soups.  On a late November evening, in the throes of a cold or anticipating one, you can rely it to bring you back to life. Nothing takes the place of this creamy, … Continue reading

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Secret threads…

~~When Araxi Astardjian Oshagan, my maternal grandmother, announced in that gentle but patrician voice of hers, that she was going to start learning English, it seemed an improbable project.  Our grandmother, the quintessential example of a woman who was growing … Continue reading

Posted in Aging, well enough, Armenians, Learning, Palestinians, Passages and Homes, Those we Love | Tagged , , , , , , | 4 Comments

White bean Plaki (as in plucky)

First, the name: Is plaki a stew with fish or meat, or is it, as my grandmother used the word, the white bean stew that, over the years, she developed to something near-perfection?  My friends I. and T., both of … Continue reading

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Rx for the two of us…

For my mother, Anahid, who died on November 4, 2005 in Amman, Jordan–these words, written in her rebellious, intelligent, quirky spirit. Fragment from my mother’s scarabé embroidery Here’s the scene. You’re gathered around a festive dining table. There’s a marvelous … Continue reading

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