Solidarity in this "upside down" dish

A picture of it got my attention. But it was the challenge posed by "the upside down" that hooked me.

Early in 2022's holiday season a locally owned grocery store, the Metropolitan Market in Seattle, sent out an email teasing its specials on holiday pears and charcuterie platters, along with a few recipe suggestions for holiday gatherings. Amid photographs of the usual suspects sat a gorgeously layered sight featuring golden rice, lamb and a ruby red tomato lid.

That was my initial introduction to maklouba, described in the newsletter as a Middle Eastern dish and a "showstopper" for intimate gatherings with loved ones. Maklouba is nicknamed "the upside down" due to the top layer going into a pot first before covering it with the fillings of your choice. The recipe I use calls for potatoes and eggplant to be added in an even layer next, then spiced lamb, then the rice layer. From there it's covered and simmered without stirring for about 40 minutes, with one peek to gently move the rice grains from the outside rim to the inside.

Once the cooking finishes comes the make or break of the dish, style-wise, in that you invert the pot and gently let the whole thing slide onto a very large plate or a platter, producing a savory casserole resembling a layer cake. 

Between the look of it and the spices required — turmeric, allspice, cloves, cardamom and cinnamon — how could I not try it? "Don’t be intimidated by the number of steps — it’s actually pretty easy and well worth the effort," the recipe's intro assured me.

By some miracle, my first effort emerged from my enameled dish with its shape immaculately retained, strata recognizably separate. My husband, already seduced by the aromatics, took photos before we dug in. And one does dig into a maklouba since the layers tend to collapse into a heap as you plate it. Cooking the spices into the meat gives it a delicious earthiness, balanced by the soft mouthfeel of roasted cubes of eggplant and potato.

The rice layer soaks up the juices from the meat and tomato, grabbing a pleasing yellow color from both the fruit at the bottom (and the top, eventually) and the turmeric. A feast of many colors originating from one pot.

I've made the dish many times since, sometimes when my spouse and I have had a tough week; it's outstanding comfort food and yields plenty of leftovers. Over the summer I impressed the Jordanian proprietor of a Midwestern spice and gift shop when, upon encountering his ready-made spice mix for maklouba, I asked for several ounces. 

"You know what this is?" he said with a pleased note of shock. "You make 'the upside down'?" Yes, I assured him. He smiled, amazed that a non-Middle Eastern customer knew about what he described as a "very Middle Eastern dish."

But only when I searched online for other versions of the recipe months later did I find out that the origin of this wonderful meal is specifically Palestinian. That grants it additional meaning, especially now.

To its credit, the grocer that shared its maklouba recipe in the first place describes it as "traditionally served in Iraq, Lebanon, Palestine, Jordan and Syria." At least it mentioned the place that birthed it, and perhaps it wasn't aware that the third land and culture mentioned should have been given top billing.  

But that's what it is to walk the line between appropriation and appreciation. Americans tumble into the former's territory more often than we may realize. Everyday examples are woven throughout our culture. We see it in hairstyle, fashion and music trends white people crib from Black, brown, Asian and Indigenous folks. 

Food is a means by which we can experience home again and share that sense of place with others, making it vital to acknowledge where a dish began, even popular ones. But appropriation is so prevalent in our cuisine that we rarely think about it. It's commonly understood the food considered to be essentially American has European origins, but even meals and condiments in the so-called "international" aisles at our grocery store are vastly different from the versions eaten in the places from which they purport to be.

Middle Eastern cuisine comes to the plate with additional friction, particularly hummus and falafel, the origins of which are debated in Jerusalem, as Anthony Bourdain showed in his 2013 "Parts Unknown" episode on the place. Here in the U.S., one of the most popular brands of hummus is manufactured by an Israeli company, Sabra. 

Some who are at a loss as to how best to support the civilians terrorized in the Israel-Hamas war have been patronizing Palestinian and Israeli restaurants to show solidarity. 

I am not selling my food in an eating establishment, the arenas in which appropriation battles tend to be pitted. But I am fortunate to have a roof over my head, a kitchen and the means to cook a signature dish of a people under siege and facing annihilation. Hundreds of thousands of Gazans are starving right now, and The Guardian reports that an estimated 85 percent of its population has been displaced by Israel's relentless bombings. Maklouba is a dish made for celebrating and sustaining community, from what I understand. So is it wrong to make maklouba at a time when such concepts can feel so distant?

Not according to Reem Assil, an Oakland, CA.-based Palestinian-Syrian chef and the author of "Arabiyya: Recipes from the Life of an Arab in Diaspora." In her view, she told me via email, "Making a maklouba in solidarity with Palestinians is one of the most powerful things you can do."

Assil, who runs Reem's California in San Francisco, is closely connected to Gaza. Her grandmother, who was born in Yafa, became a refugee in Gaza when her family was pushed out of their home as part of what the U.N. describes as "the mass displacement and dispossession of Palestinians during the 1948 Arab-Israeli war," also known as the Nakba.

As she observes in a profile posted on the Palestine in America website, "For Palestinians, food becomes a way we document that we exist as a people when so much around us has been stolen to fool the world into thinking we don't exist. Cooking and sharing our food becomes an act of resistance to the intentional campaign to sever us from our foodways." 

So, too, can be cooking food from a culture you may not share while acknowledging the people who gave that cuisine to the world. Indeed, make an "upside down" and sit with its aroma; savor its flavorful, consoling sustenance.  Make it for others, letting them know from whom and where it originates. Enjoy its homeyness, and set a place in your heart for those who also make it, love it and can't right now, with the hope that someday soon they can again. 

Maklouba (or Maqluba)

Yields

8 servings

Prep Time

45 minutes

Cook Time

1 hour

Ingredients

1 large potato, cubed (1 1/2 cups)

5 - 6 Tbsp Extra Virgin Olive Oil, divided

Kosher salt and black pepper

1/2 large eggplant, cubed (2 cups)

2 cups basmati rice

1 large onion, diced (1 1/2 cups)

3 garlic cloves, minced (1 Tbsp)

2 tsp turmeric

2 tsp allspice

2 tsp cinnamon

Seeds from 5 cardamom pods

1/2 tsp ground cloves

1-1 1/2 pounds ground lamb or beef (can omit for a vegetarian version)

2 Tbsp tomato paste

3 - 4 large tomatoes, cut into 1/2-inch thick slices

3 cups unsalted chicken or vegetable broth, at room temperature (plus up to 1 cup more, if needed as rice cooks)

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 450°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper
2. Place cubed potato on lined baking sheet. Drizzle with 1 Tbsp oil and sprinkle generously with salt and pepper. Roast for 10 minutes.
3. Add eggplant, drizzle with another 1 Tbsp oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Return to oven for 10 minutes or until vegetables are browned.
4. While vegetables roast, rinse rice in a strainer. Place rice in a bowl, cover with warm water, and soak for 20 minutes. (Proceed to step 4 while the rice soaks.) After 20 minutes, drain rice and season with 2 1/2 to 3 tsp salt.
5. Heat a large skillet over medium heat. Add 1-2 Tbsp oil. Sauté onion and garlic until soft. Add 1 tsp salt, 1/2 tsp pepper, and remaining spices. Cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Add ground meat and tomato paste. Stir and cook until meat is no longer pink. Taste and adjust seasoning. Set aside.
6. Line the bottom of a 3- to 4-quart saucepan with a tight-fitting lid with a circle of parchment paper. Brush 2 Tbsp olive oil over parchment. Arrange slices of tomato over parchment in two layers.
7. Top tomatoes with roasted potatoes and eggplant. Spoon meat mixture over vegetables and press down with the flat bottom of a measuring cup or the back of a large spoon.
8. Cover with drained rice. Carefully pour 3 cups room-temperature broth over rice, so as not to disrupt the grains. Do not stir.
9. Bring contents of pot to a gentle boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cover pan with a sheet of foil, then place the lid over the foil on the pan. Crimp extra foil around the rim where the lid meets the pan to seal in the steam. Simmer gently for 15 minutes.
10. Remove foil and lid, then carefully fluff just the top layer of rice, stirring center grains to the outside for even cooking. Recover with foil and lid and cook for another 25 minutes. Check doneness of rice. If it needs more cooking, fluff again and add a little more broth, if it appears dry. Simmer gently for another 5-10 minutes or until rice is tender. Remove from heat and set aside for 10-20 minutes before inverting.
11. Place a large, rimmed platter over the top of the pan. Protect your hands with oven mitts. In one swift motion, hold the platter in place and carefully invert the maklouba onto the platter. Carefully remove the pan. Garnish with pine nuts and parsley. Serve warm.