International’Tis the season of khash
Published: Saturday December 08, 2007 in Living in Armenia
Traditions, customs, rituals, and ceremonies. These are terms that are synonymous with being Armenian. At least they were in my family. There were certain things we just weren't allowed to question. Aside from the obvious religious and national observances, my mother had oddities perhaps peculiar to her generation, perhaps just peculiar to her genetic makeup. We always used to joke that even if the heavens heralded the second coming of Christ, it wouldn't matter to our extremely devout mother - every Friday we would have to go grocery shopping and then every square inch of our home would have to be dusted, washed down, and scrubbed. Although I look back on those days now with nostalgia, at the time I couldn't figure out certain obsessions that we Armenians, in the name of tradition, hung on to - even if those traditions involved housework.
And then I moved to Armenia where some traditions are written in stone and anyone who questions their validity is considered strange.
With the advent of winter comes the official opening of the khash season in Armenia. Khash is a dish that I happily avoid - even writing about it can cause my stomach to turn, but since I have decided to write about cherished Armenian traditions I will just have to grin and bear it.
The word khash derives from khashel, to boil. What is boiled is usually cow's feet; it can be pig's feet or lamb's feet. The cow's feet are purchased at a meat market, thoroughly cleaned, left to sit in water for days, and then boiled for hours and hours until the cartilage has turned translucent. The khash is usually served in large clay bowls with the boiled feet swirling about in a thin broth. Garlic and lemon are added to taste and the dish is served with a variety of greens and pickles. And of course khash wouldn't be khash without vodka - the most important ingredient, some would argue.
First you must remove the foot from the broth and place it in another plate. Using your knife and fork, you cut it down into small pieces, and place them back in the bowl.
The next step is the adding of the lavash - flat bread that is baked in a tonir. There are two kinds of lavash that are served with the khash and they are the crowning glory of this dish. The lavash is dried and then broken into small pieces. These small bits of dried lavash are added to the khash until they cover the contents of the bowl. Then a fresh, soft piece of lavash is placed over top of the bowl acting as a cover, ensuring that the khash remains hot. The traditional way of eating this is to pierce a hole into the top layer of the lavash and eat the khash with the smaller pieces of dried lavash which, having absorbed the broth, have become soft and mushy, and to do so with ones hands. No forks please.
When eating khash in a restaurant people refrain from using their hands to get to the mushy contents and use a fork or a spoon.
Apart from the ritual of preparing the khash there are many rites and traditions that are part of this culinary dish.
I was once told that there are certain things a man does not do with a woman - eating khash was one of them. Khash it seems is a male bonding ritual. Isgagan dghamartig get together in the mornings and eat khash. No women allowed.
Tragically for the men, this bastion of male supremacy is being overrun by women. I hath seen it with my own eyes. We were invited to khash by some friends last Sunday morning. I hesitantly told them that I don't eat khash and neither does my son. My husband and daughter are the culinary adventurers in our family. They looked at me as if I was demented and demanded to know why I didn't eat khash. I tried explaining that I had difficulty with internal organs and other body parts; it's hard enough for me to eat ham, never mind the foot of a cow.
Nonetheless off we went to Mer Kiughe restaurant on Sayat Nova for an early Sunday morning dose of khash and vodka. I was sure there would be groups of happy, vodka-drinking men in black (sorry, but stereotypes stick) sitting around with their steaming clay bowls of khash. I was pleasantly surprised for instead of the images floating around in my head there were groups of young men and women, and even tables with only women eating the traditional Armenian khash, toasting the opening of the season. Diehard traditionalists are still scratching their heads wondering how it is that women have wiggled their way into this strange world of khash.
My sarcasm is not without justification. The first few months after moving to Armenia we were invited to a neighborhood khash party. I pleaded with my husband that we not go, but out of courtesy and in duress I ended up going to Shahumian, a district of Yerevan, to my husband's relatives' house. This is the scene that greeted me when we walked into their home: Every piece of furniture in their tiny living room had been moved away and a long table set up in the center of the room; because they didn't have enough chairs, a long wooden plank on each side of the table served as seating. The men were sitting around the table and eating khash while all the women were sitting or standing along the walls watching them. I was incensed, infuriated at this spectacle - and it didn't help that my husband went and happily joined the other men.
I found a corner to hide and tried not to show my frustration at being in a situation that I didn't condone but had absolutely no power over. I suffered silently until all the men had finished their khash, watched as they pushed their chairs back and, rubbing their bellies, walked out into the courtyard to smoke. The women of the house then cleared away the table and set a new one for the women, who were patiently waiting for their turn.
When I relayed this story to my girlfriend visiting from Canada several months later, she was naturally just as stunned as I initially was. She was anxious to know what I had done and, when I told her I didn't do anything, the tirade began. How was it that I had not said anything, had not told them they're all off their rockers?
