Dolma with No Lamb. Sniff.

After reading Jose Saramago's The Gospel According to Jesus Christ this morning, and only getting as far as Joseph and Mary's trek to Bethlehem, I got a craving for dolmades. Mrs Joseph, in faroff Bloemfonten, taught my mother to make them, with lamb, and fresh grape leaves from behind their house, against the koppie. The Josephs were Lebanese (no one eats dolmades on the Saramago trek - only bread. Forever bread). So off I went to buy grape leaves and lamb, but the Inn was closed. My Moslem butcher had shut up shop, though the light was still on...when does one have to pray, as a Moslem? It was 4.30...Anyway, deciding to forego lamb from the Los Amigos guys on Smith Street (I am loyal to them, but not for lamb: not at three times the price - hmmm, as I type a gentle zephyr from the terrace brought a whisper of Formosa scent to me...but more about that later, or earlier, as this blog works). So, no lamb, and I decided to do the "cold dolma" Claudia Roden writes about in The New Book of Middle Eastern Food. Very simple: one cup basmati; one onion very finely chopped (actually it's better to grate it. Mrs Joseph was right); two tomatoes finely chopped; a handful parsley from the terrace, finely chopped; ditto mint (Claudia called for dried mint but I had none); a shake of cinnamon; a shake of allspice; salt and pepper. Oh, and I added a garlic clove finely chopped. Seemed wrong not to. Mix in a bowl.

So then, after soaking your bottled, alas, vine leaves in hot water for a while to de-pickle them, spread them flat and do this. Or that, up there. You're going to flap the sides in one by one over the little heap; then flap the front bit over, away from you, then roll over the last and furthest flap till you have a little log. Don't make the log too tight- remember the rice will expand when it cooks. Go out of your way to find fresh vine leaves though. They are incomparable. It's like eating tortillas made in Mexico and tortillas made not-in-Mexico. No bloody similarity whatsoever, just a sad, dusty echo. If someone has a grape vine pick the leaves in May or June, blanch them in boiling water and freeze them in packs. My mother used to and they lasted very well. Esoterica, I know.

There they are all neat in their pot. They are laid on the scraps of vine leaves left over. I covered them with two cups of chicken stock (cheating - Claudia said water and olive oil). Cooked about 45 minutes of medium-low heat.

I then cheated again and made avgolemono sauce. Cup chicken stock, three egg yolks, one lemon. Whisk and heat, beating, but not making into scrambled eggs. Pour over.

Frankly, I could just have had the avgolemono, which was delicious (real stock) as soup for supper. These dolma did not rock my world. In fact they were damn boring. Add two cups ground lamb; cook over lamb bones; grate the onion.

Viva Mrs Joseph. I wonder where she went and when.

Footnote: you know what it might be? The tomatoes - too bland. "I remember when tomatoes tasted like tomatoes..." Actually, I don't. When I was little and we grew them, I hated them. They made me want to throw up. But looking at these ingredients, there's nothing wrong with them. It should taste good! I think it was the vine leaves. They were leathery, when I remember them being soft and delicatey ripping in the teeth. We will revisit these things. They are a comfort food for me.