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Los Angeles Times
June 16 2011
Marrying Mexican and Armenian cuisine
When a Mexican American married a man of Armenian descent, meals
became an international feast.
By Lorenza Munoz, Special to the Los Angeles Times
June 16, 2011
Like many women, I had a secret list of requirements that my future
husband would have to meet before I married him.
At the top of the list? He had to love food.
In my Mexican family, food has always been at the forefront of our
conversations, imagination and life. My parents and I will spend hours
discussing a menu for any gathering, no matter how small. My
grandmother and father would take an entire day preparing a family
meal, shopping together, cooking together. My mother could create a
fabulous meal out of anything in the pantry.
Fortunately, the man I married fulfilled my food requirement and more.
I married into an Armenian family and happily discovered that
Armenians and Mexicans could be the same tribe separated at birth. We
are loud, clannish, musical, emotional (my father once quipped that
Armenians make Mexicans look like Swedes). And we love our food.
I am ashamed to say that before I met my husband, Greg, I was totally
unfamiliar with Armenian culture, had never tasted a kufta (stuffed
meatballs) or muhammara (walnut and red bell pepper dip) or sou beoreg
(cheese-stuffed pastry).
But since then I have discovered that there is a natural culinary
connection between the two cultures. Armenians, just like Mexicans,
love the comingling of sweet and sour and spicy and mild; they love
strong flavors like lamb and garlic. Through the communion of food,
the tradition of breaking bread, our families have gotten to know and
love each other.
>From the moment our families met, I knew we would mesh well. My
introduction began at Uncle Tony's barbecues. Tony, I was thrilled to
find, had a whole ritual that revolved around his food (including
photographing his favorite meals and placing them in a special album).
Every afternoon he would make himself a plate of mezze (little bites
of things such as olives, nuts, Armenian string cheese, celery and
carrots) to go with his requisite martini.
This was reminiscent of my father, who, every day before dinner, makes
himself a plate of botanas - some almonds, olives and thinly sliced
radishes with a dash of lemon and a sprinkle of salt - to accompany
his glass of sherry.
At family barbecues, Uncle Tony would grill lamb shish kebabs
marinated in lemon, garlic and parsley. His sister-in-law Mary made
stuffed grape leaves, known as yalanchi, and a delicious pilaf with a
sinful amount of butter and a mountain of dates and sliced almonds as
garnish.
In our family, we would grill carne asada, marinated in garlic and
cilantro, complemented by a helping of either red, white or green
rice.
My father-in-law, Sam, also loved the kitchen. He would skip Mass on
Sundays, but when Greg's mother and the four kids returned from
church, he would be sure to greet them in a red apron, martini in
hand, while the strains of a Puccini opera and the aroma of a leg of
lamb and garlic filled the air.
In our home on Sundays, my father always donned his green apron, put
on some boleros and cooked elaborate meals such as grilled steaks,
wild mushrooms with garlic and parsley, and roasted baby potatoes with
cilantro and lemon, giving my mom a much-needed break.
Before our wedding, Greg and I hosted a dinner at which my extended
Mexican family met Greg's. It was catered by Carousel, the well-known
Armenian restaurant in Hollywood, now expanded into Glendale. My
Mexican relatives devoured the garlicky-lemon kebabs in pockets of
pita bread (which served as a nice substitute for tortillas) with
slices of raw jalapeņos. The Armenian string cheese reminded us of a
lighter, milkier version of Oaxaca cheese. Mexicans are accustomed to
eating Arabic-influenced food not only because of the Moorish
tradition that came from Spain but also because of a large influx of
Lebanese immigrants to Mexico.
Even during the holidays we have combined customs: My family hosts a
traditional Mexican dinner on Christmas Eve while we spend Christmas
Day with my husband's family. While yalanchi and pilaf are a requisite
on Christmas Day, this year, cousin Jeff also experimented with
Mexican flavors by making a tasty grilled turkey with a habanero chile
and sausage stuffing.
Sadly, Sam and Tony have died. But their influence at family
gatherings is still alive. Whenever we host a family party, Aunt
Mary's yalanchi are placed side-by-side with my carne asada, or a tray
of lahmajoun (Armenian pizzas with lamb) sits next to a bowl of
totopos (tortilla chips) or pita bread with a salty, creamy
yogurt-like cheese dip called jocoque that is topped with minced
serrano peppers and pomegranate seeds.
Now that we have our Armexican traditions in place, I need to think of
how to incorporate the Czech side of Greg's maternal family into the
mix - perhaps some dumplings and duck with a spicy habanero salsa on
the side?
http://www.latimes.com/features/food/la-fo-armexican-20110616,0,4566814.story
June 16 2011
Marrying Mexican and Armenian cuisine
When a Mexican American married a man of Armenian descent, meals
became an international feast.
By Lorenza Munoz, Special to the Los Angeles Times
June 16, 2011
Like many women, I had a secret list of requirements that my future
husband would have to meet before I married him.
At the top of the list? He had to love food.
In my Mexican family, food has always been at the forefront of our
conversations, imagination and life. My parents and I will spend hours
discussing a menu for any gathering, no matter how small. My
grandmother and father would take an entire day preparing a family
meal, shopping together, cooking together. My mother could create a
fabulous meal out of anything in the pantry.
Fortunately, the man I married fulfilled my food requirement and more.
I married into an Armenian family and happily discovered that
Armenians and Mexicans could be the same tribe separated at birth. We
are loud, clannish, musical, emotional (my father once quipped that
Armenians make Mexicans look like Swedes). And we love our food.
I am ashamed to say that before I met my husband, Greg, I was totally
unfamiliar with Armenian culture, had never tasted a kufta (stuffed
meatballs) or muhammara (walnut and red bell pepper dip) or sou beoreg
(cheese-stuffed pastry).
But since then I have discovered that there is a natural culinary
connection between the two cultures. Armenians, just like Mexicans,
love the comingling of sweet and sour and spicy and mild; they love
strong flavors like lamb and garlic. Through the communion of food,
the tradition of breaking bread, our families have gotten to know and
love each other.
>From the moment our families met, I knew we would mesh well. My
introduction began at Uncle Tony's barbecues. Tony, I was thrilled to
find, had a whole ritual that revolved around his food (including
photographing his favorite meals and placing them in a special album).
Every afternoon he would make himself a plate of mezze (little bites
of things such as olives, nuts, Armenian string cheese, celery and
carrots) to go with his requisite martini.
This was reminiscent of my father, who, every day before dinner, makes
himself a plate of botanas - some almonds, olives and thinly sliced
radishes with a dash of lemon and a sprinkle of salt - to accompany
his glass of sherry.
At family barbecues, Uncle Tony would grill lamb shish kebabs
marinated in lemon, garlic and parsley. His sister-in-law Mary made
stuffed grape leaves, known as yalanchi, and a delicious pilaf with a
sinful amount of butter and a mountain of dates and sliced almonds as
garnish.
In our family, we would grill carne asada, marinated in garlic and
cilantro, complemented by a helping of either red, white or green
rice.
My father-in-law, Sam, also loved the kitchen. He would skip Mass on
Sundays, but when Greg's mother and the four kids returned from
church, he would be sure to greet them in a red apron, martini in
hand, while the strains of a Puccini opera and the aroma of a leg of
lamb and garlic filled the air.
In our home on Sundays, my father always donned his green apron, put
on some boleros and cooked elaborate meals such as grilled steaks,
wild mushrooms with garlic and parsley, and roasted baby potatoes with
cilantro and lemon, giving my mom a much-needed break.
Before our wedding, Greg and I hosted a dinner at which my extended
Mexican family met Greg's. It was catered by Carousel, the well-known
Armenian restaurant in Hollywood, now expanded into Glendale. My
Mexican relatives devoured the garlicky-lemon kebabs in pockets of
pita bread (which served as a nice substitute for tortillas) with
slices of raw jalapeņos. The Armenian string cheese reminded us of a
lighter, milkier version of Oaxaca cheese. Mexicans are accustomed to
eating Arabic-influenced food not only because of the Moorish
tradition that came from Spain but also because of a large influx of
Lebanese immigrants to Mexico.
Even during the holidays we have combined customs: My family hosts a
traditional Mexican dinner on Christmas Eve while we spend Christmas
Day with my husband's family. While yalanchi and pilaf are a requisite
on Christmas Day, this year, cousin Jeff also experimented with
Mexican flavors by making a tasty grilled turkey with a habanero chile
and sausage stuffing.
Sadly, Sam and Tony have died. But their influence at family
gatherings is still alive. Whenever we host a family party, Aunt
Mary's yalanchi are placed side-by-side with my carne asada, or a tray
of lahmajoun (Armenian pizzas with lamb) sits next to a bowl of
totopos (tortilla chips) or pita bread with a salty, creamy
yogurt-like cheese dip called jocoque that is topped with minced
serrano peppers and pomegranate seeds.
Now that we have our Armexican traditions in place, I need to think of
how to incorporate the Czech side of Greg's maternal family into the
mix - perhaps some dumplings and duck with a spicy habanero salsa on
the side?
http://www.latimes.com/features/food/la-fo-armexican-20110616,0,4566814.story