Afghan kitchen: Adapting a cuisine to a new homeland

Mahmoba Rahimi is an anomaly in her U.S. kitchen. She doesn't use measuring cups, she is still getting used to an electric stove and the food processor seems out of place.

"I wish it were a bit bigger," Rahimi said with a smile when she looked at her small, apartment kitchen in Murray.

But she cooks like she was born in that kitchen.

Rahimi grew up in Afghanistan where her parents would throw parties for more than 1,000. She said she first learned to cook from the hired chefs who would come to her house.

But, she has had some outside influences on her cooking since her family arrived in the United States in 2006.

"I also learn to cook watching TV," Rahimi said, "and my daughter takes cooking class."

During the preparation for dinner, Rahimi's 18-year-old daughter, Mursal, was tested on her English skills. Beforehand, she had made a traditional Afghan dessert, called Firni, and sprinkled "Wellcom" on top with the spice, cardamom.

Mursal laughed when the misspelling was pointed out to her. Then her 19-year-old brother, Munir, debated the spelling of Firni with her, claiming it had a "y" at the end. The playful bantering was all done in Farsi — the family's native language.

Their father, Majid, came home and started putting together the sallata, or salad, for the meal, which is more like a condiment, not so much a dish by itself. Mahmoba said her husband, Majid, helps a lot with the cooking.

"You see," Majid said, "my wife is my boss."

After slicing the end of a cucumber, Majid rubbed the two cucumber ends together before he continued cutting it.

"Cucumber in America is more bitter," Majid said, when his method was questioned. "It helps make it less bitter."

While Mursal and Munir helped their mother, Mahmoba, in the kitchen, somewhere in the apartment five other Rahimi children kept themselves busy.

The Rahimi family lived relatively peaceful lives in Afghanistan until 1992 when civil war broke out with the fall of the government. Since Majid was affiliated with advocates for peace, the Taliban started pursuing the Rahimi family. Majid was eventually caught and imprisoned by the Taliban. He said he was beaten daily.

In his application for asylum in the United States, Majid wrote, "I lived mostly in damp caves and basements, and was not fed for days on end. When I was fed, it was dirty water and a piece of bread. I was literally starving."

After his release nine months later in 2000, Majid took his family to Pakistan. After 9/11, Majid, who was a police officer under the old government, was offered a job again with the police in Afghanistan, and he was eventually put in an anti-drug unit. There he was told unofficially to cooperate with the drug dealers and he would be protected and become rich.

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