 |
Al-Ahram Weekly 16 - 22 March 2000 Issue No. 473 
|
||
Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
| ||
|
Al-Ahram Weekly 16 - 22 March 2000 Issue No. 473
|
||
| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
| ||
Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Special Focus Travel Living Sports Profile People Time Out Chronicles Baker man, baker man
By Abeer AnwarFor most Egyptians, writes Abeer Anwar, staple features of Eid Al-Adha are a dish of fatta for breakfast after the special feast prayers, and a generous helping or two of ruqaq (layers of pastry stuffed with ground lamb, onions and spices) for lunch.
(photos: Mohamed Wassim)
Outside Cairo, two or three days before the Feast, groups of women head to small communal ovens to bake the ruqaq pastry they have prepared at home. A few hours later, they can be seen returning home, baskets balanced firmly on their heads. Beneath the white cloths that cover their loads nestle piles of crisp golden ruqaq.
In Cairo's popular neighbourhoods, neighbours gather to bake ruqaq together in a spirit of conviviality, captured by photographer Mohamed Wassim. Sharing also makes the work easier, since the women divide their tasks into assembly-line steps: one prepares the dough; another rolls it out, while another still bakes it. In this way, too, a little extra income can be made: "We bake large quantities and sell the kilo for LE2 or LE3," says Umm Abbas, who lives in Al-Darb Al-Ahmar and has been hard at work baking for the past week.
Fattouh Hussein, however, says homemade ruqaq can't compare to the delicacy he whips up on his small gas stove. "My pastry is very thin, white and transparent, while theirs is very thick, and full of air bubbles. Theirs can't make good ruqaq."
Hussein should know -- he has been making ruqaq for 30 years in his tiny stall in Agouza. He learned to bake as a boy of 14, in his village in Tanta and, although many of his former competitors folded when large companies came on the scene, flooding the market with commercial ruqaq, Hussein is still soldiering on. "It's my job and I can't change that," he laughs. "It's the only thing I know how to do. Besides, I'm good at it."
Hussein is quite willing to explain his technique, but the very simplicity of the recipe proves the secret is all in the baker's skill. He makes his own dough and divides it into pieces, then spreads each in turn on the wooden table that takes up a large part of his shop. He lets it rest for a while, and then spreads it again until it is "as thin as cigarette paper." Then he cuts the pieces again into smaller squares and bakes them in a small oven.
Year-round, he sells a kilo or two a day, to customers who will stuff the pastry with meat or savour it drowning in milk and covered in sugar and nuts -- the basic ingredients of the luscious dessert known as Umm Ali. The feast, however, is a particularly busy time: Hussein sells 30 to 40 kilos a day.
