The divine date

Aylin Öney Tan

If you ever step foot in the Spice Market in Istanbul these days, you’ll see a vast display of all sorts of dates. The same is true at any shop that sells nuts and dried fruits. This is a clear indication that Ramadan has come. Dates are not cultivated in Türkiye, but over the course of the last decades, it has become the norm to break the fast with a date during Ramadan. Somehow, it is considered more holy to bite into the very same fruit as the Prophet did. Interestingly, when I was growing up, it was always the olive. Well, it was natural to choose an olive over a date, as the olive is native to this geography, the oldest olive oil mills having been found on the Aegean coast. But the date was totally out of the scene as it had to be imported, and importing food was not allowed until the 1990s, unless it was of necessity, an act to protect local produce and the economy. To put it simply, it was not only a matter of choice, but dates were not just available. Even if the date would have been the choice of breaking the fast back in Ottoman times, when a great portion of the Middle East was Ottoman territory, it could no longer be in the secular Republic of Türkiye.

The fascination with dates is not only confined to Islam. The date palm is believed to have roots in heaven in many cultures. Rooted in heaven, dates have also found their way into all the holy books. According to the Torah, dates symbolize justice. According to the Bible, it's the tree of life. In the Koran, it is considered one of the fruits of paradise. In fact, a common saying in the Middle East is that the roots of the date palm are in heaven and its leaves are in hell. Of course, the tree and its fruit, which creates a paradise for mankind by cutting the hellish heat of the sun, are worthy of this love and respect. The oases shaded by date palms not only provided shelter in the scorching deserts, but also enabled the development of agriculture beneath the date palm trees which created a microclimate. The date palms soaring to the sky with their tall trunks created climates favorable for life to flourish in their shade, making it possible for grains and other fruits to grow. Prophet Muhammad is reported to have said: “Muslims are the blessed of people and dates are the blessed of trees!” This saying, as much as the Prophet's habit, must be behind the custom of breaking the Ramadan fast with dates. When fasting was first made obligatory, the fruit of cool oases became the main iftar meal during Ramadan, which coincided with summer at the time. Ramadan comes from the Arabic word “Ramz,” which means severe heat, so it is very logical to praise the tree that provides shade.

The date tree is also a very industrial tree, so to speak. All their parts can be utilized in many ways. Mats and ropes are woven from their fibers. Dates, the durable powerhouse of caravans, became indispensable for travelers and merchants, and their seeds fed camels. Some historians say that the civilizations that sprouted in the Middle East were able to develop and spread thanks to dates. According to this claim, Mesopotamian civilizations such as Assyria and Sumer owe their existence to dates. Perhaps this is why, in its native Middle East, the “queen of fruits” has always been associated with abundance and life. In ancient Egypt, dates grown along the Nile were painted on temples, left in tombs and accompanied pharaohs on their journey to the afterlife. Carthaginian coins were stamped with dates for fertility. In ancient Greece and Rome, palm leaves were a sign of victory and power. Its endurance inspired poets.

My personal enlightenment with dates happened in Algiers in 1985. Those were the years when food import in Türkiye was still not allowed, and my year of living in Algiers taught me to develop an appreciation for dates. Having no sweet tooth whatsoever, the dates I’ve previously tasted were the sticky sweet ones, and I had no clue of fresh dates before. It was there that I first saw the “deglet nour” and “deglet beida” varieties. These fresh dates were sold in huge bunches on their branches. And then I discovered wonderful recipes that make use of dates. When we were visiting Ghardaia, in the cemetery of Melika, one of the five cities that line the palm groves of the M'zab valley in the middle of the Sahara, I met a flavor that I could not forget when I least expected it. It was a semolina cookie with a date paste filling flavored with orange blossom water. It’s called Makhroud, and from that moment on, dates were totally in my agenda, and I was always in search of "Makhroud" recipes.

Recipe of the Week:

Makhroud is usually fried and dipped in syrup, but sometimes it is baked in the oven like a cookie. In this way, it is very similar to the “mamul” recipe we have in southeast Türkiye. This is an easy way of doing it, relatively light and lasts a long time. If you prefer, you can also pour syrup over it as soon as it comes out of the oven, but the natural sweetness of the date is more than enough for a light cookie.

For the dough:

3 cups semolina, 1/2 cup flour, 1 sachet baking powder, 3/4 cup oil or melted butter or ghee, 2-3 tablespoons orange blossom, 1 pinch salt, 1 cup water

For the filling:

1/2 kg dates, peel of 1 orange, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, 2-3 tablespoons orange blossom water

For the filling, chop the dates into small pieces and knead well to a paste with the other ingredients. For the dough, mix all the ingredients except the water. Add the water little by little while kneading the semolina mixture continuously. Let the semolina swell for a while. Divide the dough in half and roll it into long rolls on the baking sheet, about the thickness of your wrist. Flatten them to about 1/2 cm thick. Place the date mixture lengthwise in the center of the dough, leaving about 2 cm on each side. Fold the dough over the mixture on both sides to seal. Turn the rolls over and cut them into diamond shapes. Press them one by one with a fork to make pronged marks on each cookie. Bake in a 200°C oven for 40 minutes until they turn golden.