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Food is Who We Are

August 30, 2010

I couldn't resist this poem by the Armenian-American poet Gregory Djanikian. It's about how iconic ethnic foods form a delicious link to our families and our heritage.

Just so you know: Armenia has had a tumultuous history, including genocide and diaspora. And a lahmajoun is a thin flatbread topped with delicately spiced meat. When I was growing up, our neighbors and best friends were Armenian. So, when I had kids, I was happy to keep store-bought lahmejoun in my freezer for easy meals. For Djanikian, however, making and eating lahmajoun means so much more.

The poem is used by permission; from the book So I Will Till the Ground.

I Ask My Grandmother If We Can Make Lahmajoun

Sure, she says, why not,
we buy the ground lamb from the market
we buy parsley, fresh tomatoes, garlic
we cut, press, dice, mix

make the yeasty dough
the night before, kneading it
until our knuckles feel the hardness
of river beds or rocks in the desert

we tell Tante Lola to come
with her rolling pins we tell
Zaven and Maroush, Hagop and Arpiné
to bring their baking sheets

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

we are spreading the lahma
on the ajoun with our fingers
whispering into it the histories
of those who have none

we are baking them
under the heat of the sun
the dough crispening
so thin and delicate

you would swear
it is valuable parchment
we are taking out
and rolling up in our hands

and eating and tasting again
everything that has already
been written
into the body.

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