Tabbooleh

New housewives are often subjected to the brutal criticism of older ladies, who consider themselves much more accomplished than their younger counterparts. They often forget the huge age gap ,and years of household practice that separates them from younger girls, who just got married, were never responsible for cooking and cleaning before and who, due to being a student and/or working woman for most of their lives, till the unfortunate incident of meeting such accomplished ladies, were rarely required to tend for themselves, let alone other people. It's a great thing to be able to cook and clean perfectly before you have your own family, but what I'm saying is: if you can't, it's never too late to learn, and one would understand. Or, SHOULD understand. Girls go to school, go to university, get jobs, start working and might get married in any point along the way. A girl  doesn't stay at home till prince charming comes her way, sweeps her out of the kitchen window, on his white mare's back, and unloads her in his own kitchen to automatically continue everything she's been practicing, ever since she left elementary school.

This memory was brought fresh to my mind yesterday, when I was preparing a nice bowl of tabbooleh; a-much-loved-but-not-so-common salad in my house because of its long preparation time.
We had hardly come back from our honey moon, and had just moved in our new house in Qatar, supposedly away from family invitations that save you from cooking, for at least a year after marriage.
We were soon part of a large community of Jordanians who had dinner invitations ON DAILY BASIS. In the year we spent there,I can count the nights we spent at home alone. It was such a friendly atmosphere, either taking turns in cooking or preparing shared dinners at someone's house. The couples were all considerably older than us, with their kids already in colleges abroad, yet, we got to be good friends, and they made it feel like home for us. So one night, they decided to make a sharing party and asked me to bring the tabbooleh. I remember very clearly how I felt, standing there in this nice lady's kitchen, holding my tabbooleh bowl, being subjected to the ruthless attack of a friend of hers, who decided "for my own benefit" to dissect my salad,and teach me the 101s  of  the art of tabbooleh: "Listen, my dear,"she howled:"To make tabbooleh, you don't mince parsley this fine, you don't dice tomatoes this big, you don't put cucumbers inside it, but sliced around it if you must, this is not the right kind of burghul to use, and onions should be grated not diced."

To crown her achievement of belittling me and my salad she told the hostess: "But don't throw it away anyways, who knows maybe someone would want to try it!" My face was yellower than the lemons garnishing the bowl! I will remember this feeling for as long as I live, even if I do turn into an accomplished housewife one day!

March 2006