Syrian Dancing Chicken

The night that Sarge and Nanny made this for us was a very hectic one. During the day, Serrano and I had taken an eventful train and bus ride up to Kent to visit my mother's cousin and her husband. She has a house in Kent that they stay at on the weekends, and we walked her dogs and looked at the fall foliage. We also noticed that Kent has a large artistic community, and there are a lot of galleries and outdoor sculptures that are interesting. We had lunch at a cafe, and I enjoyed a simple duck salad. Then we went up to Kent Falls, where there's a beautiful waterfall and open space to have picnics.

In the afternoon, Serrano and I took the train back to his grandparent's house, where dinner was almost done.  It was Syrian chicken with beets and butternut squash, which is also one of Nanny and Sarge's signature dinners.

The only problem with the Syrian chicken is that no one knows how to spell its Syrian name. I maintained a D average during two semesters of standard Arabic when I was at Fordham, but my rough estimation is that it's spelled Djadjee (The letter for J in standard Arabic makes a dj sound). When I asked different family members how to spell it, they would laugh and throw out random letters and then open a family discussion into how you spell any of the Lebanese words Nanny likes to pepper her vocabulary with. This would then lead to Serrano accusing his aunt of using these words without having any idea what they actually meant, since she likes to string them all together at once.

But before Nanny and Sarge's house filled up with family, they explained how they made dinner. Unfortunately, I didn't get many pictures, and I was starving when we started eating, and shortly after the family started to trickle in and ended up eating dinner with us.

For the beets, Sarge told me that he peeled, sliced, and boiled them in salted water. He told me that he sliced them paper thin so that they would cook faster and then added, "If you slice them thicker, you may not live long enough to see them get cooked." Once they were cooked, he drained them well and served them.

The butternut squash he also peeled, sliced, and boiled in salted water. When they were tender, he drained them well, mashed them, and added margarine and honey. He advised me to be careful when draining the squash, since it acts like a sponge.

Then Nanny explained how she made the Djadjee, or Syrian chicken. She cut up one white onion, chopped one tablespoon of garlic, and mixed the two together. She sauteed them until soft and added the ground meat of 4 hamburgers and sauteed it with the onion and garlic. Then she added some chopped parsley. Separately, she cooked 2 cups of rice until soft, then added it to the meat-onion mixture and mixed everything together. She seasoned it with salt, pepper, and garlic powder to taste.

Then, she opened a chicken, cleaned it, and let it dance. Since we were in Kent when she did this I didn't get to see it, but she explained that she stands the chicken up and raises its arms and legs so that it dances on the cutting board. After the chicken's tired from dancing, she stuffs the meat mixture inside the cavity. Then, she separates the skin from the meat with her fingers and stuffs the remaining stuffing inside so that it covers most of the chicken. She said to then season the chicken with salt, pepper, and garlic powder. Then she sewed up the cavity, pulled the strings until they were tight, and put a knot in the end.

She told me that she then put flour (at this point I decided not to mention yet again that I can't eat flour and that a box of my "gluten flour" was on the counter) inside a turkey bag and stuck the chicken inside. She cut a strip of plastic from the bag and used it to tie the end of the bag into a knot. She then slit the bag in 6 places so that it wouldn't pop in the oven, and baked it at 350 degrees.

Back In the Land of Milk and Honey

Even though I was loving my time in Connecticut and New York, I had to cut my trip short to take care of some things that could not wait.

 I was sad to leave early, and when I caught a taxi to JFK in the rain I watched Manhattan and Queens fly blearily by me, wishing I didn't have to leave just yet. But by the time I landed in the rain in Long Beach, I realized that when I first moved to New York at age eighteen I came with the lingering impression that New Yorkers and nearly the entire East Coast were so different from the West Coast it should be another country.

But this time, as I walked around Grand Central Station and took the subway around Manhattan, I realized that I  had been wrong. I saw much less of the things I thought made us so different and saw more that we really are the same. People living in major cities are very similar, whether they're sitting in traffic on the 405 or waiting for their train to arrive. And yes, in some ways, New York and LA are different and always will be. But for the most part, we are all more similar than some of us would like to think.

The business I had to rush back for has had me running all over downtown Los Angeles, but I've enjoyed rediscovering the city. I've had a chance to visit some familiar sights that hold fond memories for me. I used to not like LA because everything is so spread out, but I realized that I've grown very familiar with it and that familiar quality makes it more comfortable than any other city I've been to. I've traveled all over the world and loved some cities more than others, but I know Los Angeles, and some parts of it will always loyally be the same to me. I have many fond memories from my childhood and adult life, and for that I will always feel that I am an inherent part of Los Angeles.

I still have plenty from my trip to share with you. I have many more recipes, a restaurant review, bakery review, and even a review of a dairy free ice cream shop. But at the moment I'm still running around like a chicken with my head cut off, so I haven't been able to share all of my flavorful memories yet. But they were delicious, and, best of all, gluten and dairy free.

Silverman's Farm

Since Connecticut is where Serrano was born and raised, he's been sharing his childhood memories with me. I've seen baby pictures, high school portraits, and the schools he attended. He also showed me one place in particular he has fond memories of, which is Silverman's Farm in Easton, Connecticut. 

There's an apple orchard that you can pick apples from, and they used to have an apple cider press on the premises. Serrano told me that he loved to watch the apples get pressed into fresh cider, and then he and his brother would drink it out of little cups. Unfortunately, Connecticut state laws now mandate that the cider has to be pasteurized before it can be distributed, so the press isn't there anymore.

But what they lacked in apple cider they definitely made up for in pumpkins.

They have a pumpkin patch on the farm, so Silverman's is a major spot for people to pick up their pumpkins for Halloween. I wasn't really complaining; I love pumpkins so much I decorated the entry way to my house last year with about five of them.

They also sold spaghetti and acorn squash, along with different types of gourds. I saw corn husks everywhere, although I wasn't sure if you could buy that or not. Many houses I've seen so far have corn husks on their entry ways, which made me feel like I was on the set of Children of the Corn, but it is a charming and inventive way to decorate.

There's a petting zoo across the street, but now they charge an entry fee, so we decided not to go in. But it was nice to be out in the country and see more of the landscape. Since Connecticut didn't get much rain this year, the leaves are not their usual vibrant, fiery kaleidoscope of oranges and reds, but we did get to see some  color in the leaves. It may not seem like much, but if you're from California, any color beyond brown is exciting.

Travel Arrangements

Today I am leaving for Connecticut.

I haven't been back to the East Coast in six years. The last time was in January of 2004, when my parents and I went back for a week to enjoy Manhattan and so that I could get the remnants of my belongings from my former roommate. I went to Fordham University for two years, but life had slammed me to the curb so hard that I decided it was best for me to crawl home to California to recuperate.

On that last trip, I met with my dean at Fordham, whom I had sent a card from India stating that I would not be returning in the fall semester of 2003 for my junior year. He was very nice when he met with me, and he told me that I would be able to resume at Fordham any time I wanted to. I saw a few of my old friends, but by that point our lives were so different we didn't have much in common anymore.

Now I'm returning, but to much kinder company. For the bulk of our trip Serrano and I will be staying with his maternal grandparents, Nanny and Sarge, who I spent a lot of time with last summer when they visited for two weeks. Since my only surviving grandparent has been haunted by dementia for over ten years, I was very touched when they told me that I could call them my grandparents.

Being the protective boyfriend that he is, Serrano warned them that I can't eat any dairy or gluten. Fortunately for me, this is a family that has become accustomed to accommodating food sensitivities. Serrano's cousin realized a couple years ago that she felt infinitely better if she didn't eat gluten and dairy. Habanera, Serrano's mom, and Poblano, Serrano's brother, are lactose intolerant but cheat occasionally and have both tried eating gluten free. Nanny also has problems with "the lactose".

Nanny is Lebanese and Sarge is Sicilian, and they both love to cook. It's a family trait, as far as I can tell. What was amazing to me was when Serrano told me that he and Sarge went over every dish they plan on making for us while we're staying with them. Serrano told them to buy Quinoa pasta for Pasta Fagioli, told them to try using Quinoa instead of wheat germ in Nanny's tabbouleh and kibbe. He's helped them figure out how to make each dish gluten free so that I can enjoy everything along with everyone else. Sarge even called each restaurant he plans to take us to and asked if I could bring my own pasta or if they have gluten free pizza crusts. Serrano's brother Pasilla lives in Manhattan, and we're planning on spending a few days in the city with him, so he emailed me a list of Yelp gluten free restaurant reviews so that we have choices for eating out.

Needless to say, I'm very touched by the effort they've all put in to helping with my food restrictions. It can be such a struggle, but it's wonderful to know that I won't have to worry about what I'm eating. This way I can enjoy each meal, and I can focus my attention on spending time with everyone, not worrying that I'll be doubled over in pain later. I do plan, however, to learn how to cook Nanny and Sarge's renowned dishes. Hopefully I can convince Sarge to make pasta sauce from scratch, which is so much better than store bought. I'll share what I learn with you, since the best recipes are the ones that are passed down.