Pigeon surprise made my day
by Bas de Vos,
2014-02-28 05:33:16.0
ON MY first day in Aswan, in southern Egypt, I wandered for hours through the maze of skinny alleyways with little idea and no concern about exactly where I was.
Children laughed and shouted as they played; there was the faint echo of a verse of the Koran from a distant mosque. The rich scent of spices and sweet-smelling smoke from the many shisha pipes blended to create a heady perfume.
Linen awnings that hung from market stalls and homes flapped quietly in the breeze off the nearby Nile. Not only did the cloth create welcome shade, it provided a perch for the countless scruffy pigeons that flap and coo all over Aswan.
I was watching these birds scuffle about when I felt a firm tug at my arm. I turned to find a woman in full burqa standing very close. She stared at me intently, emitted an excited giggle and pointed up at the birds — with a blood-soaked hand holding a glinting knife.
I gasped in fright and tried to pull away. She held tightly onto my arm with her dagger-free hand and pulled me through a small, dark doorway nearby. Clearly, she didn’t want to murder me in broad daylight.
Once inside, my captor released my arm and indicated I should sit down on a large block of wood. I sat down, surreptitiously scanning the room for an escape route. Then she picked up a bucket and tipped it slightly so I could see inside. It contained a bloody pile of decapitated pigeons. She giggled, and in hand motions suggested I eat one of the birds.
I was relieved. Of course I knew pigeons, sometimes referred to as "flying rats", are known to eat all manner of rubbish. But I was just so thankful that the woman’s knife was not intended for me. With an eager "yes, yes", I took up the offer.
But, as she bustled about preparing the birds, I discovered by doing some quick googling on my phone that pigeon is among Egypt’s national dishes and the birds used are not feral, but a special breed raised to be eaten.
After three glasses of strong Egyptian tea in an awkward no-language-in-common silence, my hostess opened the oven to present me with a beautifully stuffed and roasted pigeon.
"Hamam mahsy," she giggled, pointing at the bird — again with the knife. (I later learnt that hamam mahsy is the name of the dish.)
Moist, savoury, tender and altogether delicious, hamam mahsy, I discovered, is more satisfying than chicken. Pigeon meat is richer than standard poultry, although getting to all of it among the many bones requires some surgical skill. The stuffing, known as "fereek", was made with of some kind of green wheat and added a wonderful smoky flavour.
Having pecked the bones clean, I showed my gratitude the best I could and left with a smile, a satisfied stomach and a strong appreciation for the knife-wielding woman. Her food was one of the finest meals I’d had in months.
ON MY first day in Aswan, in southern Egypt, I wandered for hours through the maze of skinny alleyways with little idea and no concern about exactly where I was.
Children laughed and shouted as they played; there was the faint echo of a verse of the Koran from a distant mosque. The rich scent of spices and sweet-smelling smoke from the many shisha pipes blended to create a heady perfume.
Linen awnings that hung from market stalls and homes flapped quietly in the breeze off the nearby Nile. Not only did the cloth create welcome shade, it provided a perch for the countless scruffy pigeons that flap and coo all over Aswan.
I was watching these birds scuffle about when I felt a firm tug at my arm. I turned to find a woman in full burqa standing very close. She stared at me intently, emitted an excited giggle and pointed up at the birds — with a blood-soaked hand holding a glinting knife.
I gasped in fright and tried to pull away. She held tightly onto my arm with her dagger-free hand and pulled me through a small, dark doorway nearby. Clearly, she didn’t want to murder me in broad daylight.
Once inside, my captor released my arm and indicated I should sit down on a large block of wood. I sat down, surreptitiously scanning the room for an escape route. Then she picked up a bucket and tipped it slightly so I could see inside. It contained a bloody pile of decapitated pigeons. She giggled, and in hand motions suggested I eat one of the birds.
I was relieved. Of course I knew pigeons, sometimes referred to as "flying rats", are known to eat all manner of rubbish. But I was just so thankful that the woman’s knife was not intended for me. With an eager "yes, yes", I took up the offer.
But, as she bustled about preparing the birds, I discovered by doing some quick googling on my phone that pigeon is among Egypt’s national dishes and the birds used are not feral, but a special breed raised to be eaten.
After three glasses of strong Egyptian tea in an awkward no-language-in-common silence, my hostess opened the oven to present me with a beautifully stuffed and roasted pigeon.
"Hamam mahsy," she giggled, pointing at the bird — again with the knife. (I later learnt that hamam mahsy is the name of the dish.)
Moist, savoury, tender and altogether delicious, hamam mahsy, I discovered, is more satisfying than chicken. Pigeon meat is richer than standard poultry, although getting to all of it among the many bones requires some surgical skill. The stuffing, known as "fereek", was made with of some kind of green wheat and added a wonderful smoky flavour.
Having pecked the bones clean, I showed my gratitude the best I could and left with a smile, a satisfied stomach and a strong appreciation for the knife-wielding woman. Her food was one of the finest meals I’d had in months.
Post a comment