Cuisine Couture Kuwait: Machboos

This past Tuesday proved a special day. For starters, it marked exactly three weeks since I arrived in Kuwait. In addition, I moved out of the hotel and into my very own apartment! I feel especially accomplished because I procured it on my own; although the company had originally planned to find me one, their busy schedule and the competitive Kuwaiti real estate market prevented them from helping me immediately. I then took matters into my own hands: browsing internet listings, locating a real estate broker, and convincing my driver to take me on some renegade apartment showings. I wound up with a fully furnished apartment in a beautiful neighborhood that I adore.

As I attempt to adopt a routine and settle into this new chapter of my life, I’ve also been fortunate enough to make a few friends. I made one back in JFK airport, a Kuwaiti girl a few years older than me. She helped me navigate through cancelled flights and prepared me for the new locale on the flight over. We traded contact information and on Monday, my day off, we met back up. She took me to the souk, or local market, for some authentic Kuwaiti street food and an afternoon of bargaining and shopping.

The market is a throwback to Kuwait’s older days. While hotels and malls dominate the landscape, this small corner still contains old eclectic shops and artisans. It holds numerous “restaurants,” or small booths and counters lining the side of the market. Offerings were endless; a wide range of cuisines and nationalities were represented. My friend guided me to one that she called authentic Kuwaiti food. We sat at plastic tables covered with a saran tablecloth. Although humble, the set-up is highly functional. The idea is that the garbage can be gathered and the saran can be removed and replaced after each party finishes eating.

My friend selected foods that she felt best represented traditional Kuwaiti cuisine. She ordered some mezze, including hummus with meat and tabbouleh. I marveled at the hummus. Compared to Lebanese hummus or other versions of the spread I have encountered, Kuwaiti hummus seem slight and airy. The tabbouleh was also interesting because it contained no grains, only herbs and vegetables. My friend said that this is not true of all tabbouleh in Kuwait, but that some restaurants prefer to make it in this alternative way.

For my main dish, she ordered me “Machboos dejaj.” I knew that dejaj translates to chicken, but was unfamiliar with machboos. I have heard the term tossed around though, and I asked her to explain her choice. It turns out that machboos refers to a way of cooking rice. It is common to Kuwaiti households and eaten multiple times throughout the week. A family will often make a large batch and eat it for the next several days.

“I chose this because it’s the main dish in every Kuwaiti household,” she explained.

Machboos can be made with pretty much any protein (except pork since it’s not allowed here!) Common variations include lamb, shrimp, and chicken. First, the rice is soaked in water for about a half hour. Then, the cook prepares a pot with a blend of spices. The spices vary in each household with families passing down their own blends, but they generally contain cumin, cinnamon, dried lime, cardamom, mustard seed, black pepper, star anise, and bay leaf.

“You pretty much can toss in every hard spice you can think of,” my friend laughed.

Then, the meat is added to the pot. In the case of chicken, the protein simmers for about 45 minutes to an hour, until it is “cooked through and fragrant.” Once this has been achieved, the meat and spices are removed from the pot. Next, the rice is put back in the water which at this point is infused with flavor. It remains there until the water has evaporated to the top of the rice and then simmers for about 20 minutes more.

“The rice should be fully cooked, fluffy, and flavored,” my friend relayed.

My plate of machboos dejaj was exceptional. I am not usually one to gravitate toward rice as I find the texture ambiguous. This, however, was cooked perfectly. It was solid enough to retain its shape; it was substantive and thankfully identifiable in my mouth. At the same time, it was soft and cooked through. The spiciness imparted a subtle dynamic touch. It was not overt and overwhelming, but balanced, consistent, and harmonious. The restaurant served it with a tomato “sauce,” although the sauce was not thick like American or Italian sauces. It was more of a tomato broth with small wedges of potato and okra. My friend instructed me to pour small amounts on the rice and mix it together. I loved the effect of the tomato on the rice and spices.

The chicken, too, proved delicious. Although described as “fried” on the menu, the actual preparation was not. The chicken is sautéed in a pot on the stovetop to give it a crispy skin and then cooked through in the oven. The skin had an orange tint and I detected notes of citrus. Sometimes an orange hue comes from saffron or curry, but I did not notice that on my tongue. I think that the color came from orange juice, an interesting touch that also added a level of acidity to the spiciness in the rice.

As we finished our lunch, the Kuwaiti sun faded back behind us and into the horizon. My clock read 4:30, as meal schedules are much later in the Middle East. Even something as minor as this eating time reminded me of the completely new land around me. I have journeyed somewhere totally different: new food, people, schedules, and routines. At times it feels downright intimidating (and even- dare I admit- lonely). Yet I am slowly finding my stride. Tonight I will go “home”- not to a hotel, but to my own “flat” in the heart of the city.